was is too bold of me to assume you will catch me?
To think your arms were wider than the space you kept for her?
I am the quiet footnote in the story you prefer. The backup plan, the steady hand, the one who’s “always there,” While you are chasing ghosts of ghosts through cold and vacant air.
I am the silver medal worn against a grieving chest, The one you call to fill the void when you can’t have the best.
A placeholder for longing, a soft and temporary light, To keep the shadows from your bed until the morning’s bright.
I watched you watch the horizon, looking past my waiting face, as if I were a waiting room and not a holy place. I offered up my sanctuary, my rhythm, and my breath, But being “second” is a slow and agonizing death.
Was it too bold of me to assume you’d catch me? To think you’d drop the things you held to stop my certain end? I reached for “us,” but in the dark, I only found a friend.
Or less than that—a mirror reflecting who you really want, A phantom of a better love that’s come to tease and haunt.
The wind is screaming truths now as the pavement rushes near: You never promised safety; I just told myself what I wanted to hear.
I was a bridge you walked upon to get to somewhere else, While I was burning every path to save you from yourself.
So let the impact break the dream, let the assumption shatter, I’ve learned the bitter difference between “needed” and “to matter.” For in the end, the cruelest fall, the one that leaves the scar, Isn’t hitting ground—it’s seeing just how far away you are.
