Marilyn. If we were the last people on Earth; would you choose me and still ponder of her laugh? Or would I even be an option? I asked you what color I should paint my nails one night past 2 am. I was hoping you'd say me a color that reminded you of me. You told me white. All girls looked good in white. She was wearing white today. Marilyn. So polished, so pure, so ideal. So unlike what I'd choose for myself. I painted them white anyway to please you. She didn't have to do that; she could breathe and you'd swoon, and call her name and kiss the floor her perfect feet stomped on. I could be everything you want, and you still wouldn't want me. I asked you to be my valentine. What a fool I was to do such a thing when I knew she was in the back of your mind laying in a field of yellow daisies, and humming oh so soothingly. You said you'd think about it, because there was someone else. You were waiting on her. Oh to be someone you're not, and cannot be. To ride the line between lust and love is a heartwrenching thing to do.   You're the sun. You're my sun. My whole world revolves around the utter idea of you're want and need for me. You're also her sun. She's your moon. Can I be your shooting star that leaps across the universe for 3 second? Three... Two... one...you can open your eyes now. I'm gone, and she's replaced me. Are you ahppy now? Just for one night, can you take my breath away, and leave me speachless like you leave her? Her smile is like an angel and her eys like the deepest part of the sky at night. When stirred her nightime eyes dance and glisten, and you can see all the stars in the universe. She's your escape from the world, and maybe that's what love is supposed to be. Marilyn.