You could be her lover,
her everything,
the one she thinks of when she hears the word 'love'.
Darling,
she had four months to make you something
more than an almost friend,
and she didn't.
You could make her cookies,
have picnics in the suns heavenly glow.
You could laugh together under the sky,
and feel the happiness blooming inside your chest.
She does not look at you
the same way you look at her:
like she is a goddess,
like she is sky,
the stars,
the moon,
the sun.
Do you remember when she hugged you?
How soft her hoodie was,
how gentle she was,
how lovely her voice was,
do you remember?
If you were hers,
you could feel that everyday.
She does not love you,
Darling.
She does not look at you with her big, doe eyes,
her eyes don't even stray your way.
When your gone,
off on some trip,
away from her and all her loveliness,
she could miss you like the stars miss the moon
when it is not in the sky.
You could call her,
from halfway across the country,
just to hear her beautiful voice
say 'I love you.'
You are not the moon in her sky,
you are not the stars, either.
Her number is not yours to call,
Darling.
Whether your halfway across the country,
or three minutes away,
she does not care,
she is not yours to miss.
