Every night,
I read your poems
I read the honest thoughts of your mind
and every night,
I'm still wishing that I was the girl
behind the hidden times that you smile
the girl that makes you want to live
the girl that you hope for
the girl you wish for
and even though you don't believe in God,
I want to be the one that you'll pray for
the girl who can stop your nightmares
and turn them into dreams

I see the way you look at her
like she's one of the rare heavenly bodies
found in the infinite sky
and I'm just another lone galaxy
my elliptical indifference
spiral lies and mistakes
are reflected across the vastness of the void
and sometimes it feels like
I am the sun
and you are the moon
and we are cursed that the sun and the moon
will never collide
because you are too far caught up,
amazed by the stars
amazed by how she seems to shine and twinkle
across the darkness
and you don't care because you never notice
that my shoulders are near to breaking
from staying straight too long
every time I let you climb up on them
so you can try to reach her
but can't
the same way she doesn't care
that you write poems for her
and that you cast her as the princess
in your stories
I want to be the princess
in your stories
But everyday,
I am forced to fade into the background
because life has decided
that I am too broken
to be anyone's princess

Every night, I get pricked from the sharp points of the stars
when I collect them and try to weave them into a blanket
to drape over your body
to protect you
from the whispers and the screams
the truth and the lies
the fallen hopes and the cries
make you look at me
the way you look at her
but I still see you wishing
that it was her that you were hugging
and I am back into hiding
into that space where the superheroes have discarded their trash
the place for the people they've decided
are hopeless
the ones who still need saving
but are too convinced
that they've reached their end

I am the girl
that you share the deepest thoughts of your mind with
the thoughts that were lodged
into the small cracks
along the sidewalk of your secrets
You tell me the phrases
the rhymes and the metaphors
that no one else could decode
but she is still the concept
she is still the idea that comes up in your mind
when you think of writing something new,
writing something beautiful
And again,
I am just here
still the only girl
who can truly understand your poems
but never the girl inside them