What I Am to You

I am the character in the book that is too important to die Yet not worth mentioning I live in the back of your mind So as not to startle you when my name is mentioned I deserve a name But not a chapter in your book Not that much of your time I am a dot on a map The gold-flecks in your eyes I exist and am known But not worth any sort of conversation I exist in your knowledge, I live only in your factually memory I am the moth that flutters at your porch light You see me there, I might even captivate your attention for a bit, But in the end you go back inside And return to other endeavors Something of more importance I am the china in your cupboard Forgotten until an important occasion Calls for my retrieval Then cleaned with care And packed back into a box Set aside until a later date I am a witch in a children’s movie Too evil and mean to end up a protagonist in the end But far too nice to be worthy of any real respect Children will never love me But nor will they fear me as they drift to sleep I am dry white bread I lack the real appeal of white bread, I am not soft and smooth I act like wheat bread, But I also lack the nutritional value it has So I am the loaf that sits Waiting, Alone and untouched at the store Waiting for a sale to redeem me in the buyers’ eyes I am the kiss of your beloved pet Loved and appreciated, But quickly wiped away Avoided when possible Slimy and endearing I am everything loved from your childhood Tucked away and forgotten To be brought out when a memory calls Or your mother feels like embarrassing you And yet I am so much more, Than what you see in front of you I am more than you can ever imagine Greater than you’ll ever see Yet never good enough Not in your eyes And I’ll never stop being this: I am just me.