It was him.
It was always him.
He was the movement of the morning.
The tick of the clock.
He was fireflies and owls and antelopes.
He was droopy eyelids, half asleep and mumbling over his cereal.
It was never me.
I was the newspaper with nothing interesting to read.
I was heavy steps and creaky floorboards.
I was a jellyfish,
everyone loved to look at me, but no one wanted to touch me.
We were the daybreak.
The moment the sun kissed the stars, saying "here, take all that I am."
But to no avail, they faded and wandered to the other side of the world.
I'm the chase.
The sun that always wants to be beside the moon,
And sure, sometimes it looks like I made it, right?
That's all that I ever wanted, right?
But in those moments, the world is dark.
An eclipse: never fully there.
He was the stars and I was the sun.
I was chasing after him every morning,
And he ran from me.
Only, he didn't notice he was running.
At this point, it was just a cycle. A part of his routine.
And I went unnoticed.
How unfair is it that he gets all of my time,
And I am left up in the air, stranded, as another day rolls by?
No one wants to look at me, and no one wants to touch me.
Nonetheless, I chased and I chased and I still-
Loving him was the best and worst decision I ever made.
