My loneliest days are ones when you still found me beautiful and wanted me entirely. I think I felt so alone because I did not reciprocate your lust and did not want part in your infatuation with the dust of a person I am. Cold, dry, untouched. Who would want to be a part of that? You held me to such a high standard of which I did not resemble. You made me into a statue of strength and creativity on a pedestal I could not myself climb. You did this out of loneliness, to make the first the best and the first the only. You made me into a goodness of backbone when really I was looking for a warrior within myself. I was lost and terrified but you could not see past the armor you engraved on my facade. You did not see the real me because you did not want to know what I really see.