You’re not you, not for them. You are a plot device- the stranger they had to push aside that Monday morning, just after they were done breaking up with their boyfriends for the tenth time that year, and hurrying to reach their workplace. You are that annoying coworker who took a day off marauding with their friends, while his son was home awaiting blood test reports because he threw up at school last Wednesday morning. You are that team mate who didn’t work, and let her down again, and you are that waitress who messed up his order when he didn’t have anything good happening in life, except those delicious waffles he’d ordered. You are that man who took up his seat on public transport, making him stand all the way on the two hour commute. You are a plot device, an antagonist in that page of their daily diary. You’re the reason they missed that train, that interview, that job, that life.

But you are so much more. You are the ink behind my poetry, and the reason I believe in love. You are the essence of your father’s life, and the breath of your mother’s soul. Yours is the image that pops into your sister’s head when she needs courage, and you are your brother’s hero. Yours are the arms I crave when I have a bad day, and yours are the thoughts that count. Yours is the story that matters and yours are the caresses that linger. You are the rust, the dust, and the stardust. You are the dream through which I sleep smiling. You are the solid ground, and the winter sun. You are the crisp red autumn leaves, and the green spring fruit. You are you, for us- the hero of our lives.

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