Mime

I told Marcel it wasn't lust, "I do know what I feel."
It wasn't looks or fairy dust, it actually was real.

I spoke about him everyday, every night and noon.
Every Tuesday, on Mother's Day, and even afternoon.

"I am getting really tired," Marcel would always say.
"Of your constant gibber jabber about him night and day."

One day Marcel left me, he couldn't resist anymore.
"Go make yourself some herbal tea and please  leave me alone."

But no, Marcel didn't know that it was him all this time.
And if there's something I truly learned, is to stay as quiet as a mime.