the stars were where we met every sunday.
every sunday night, just before the sun rises.
we will lay on a blanket made of colors red and gray,
that my grandmother made just what seems like the other day.
taran and i, hand in hand.
every sunday. we lay for hours on end, not a single word spoken.
he looks at the stars, and admires their beauty.
and so did i, for the first few times.
but after a short while
i noticed something else.
something more beutiful than the stars could ever live up to
him.
i was like a picture book.
judged by my colors like they forgot to read,
but my pages were also torn and frayed.
i didn't give my story away,
but there was no virtual happy ending.
i knew i would never have a chance.
he would always look at the stars
and they would always be his first choice.
because i was born to be the other woman
i belonged to no one
who belonged to everyone
who had nothing
who wanted everything
with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom
that terrifies me to the point that i couldnt even talk about it.
i looked at him as he smiled at the stars
and i left a single tear roll down my face and i knew
i loved him, i loved him. i loved him.
