A little piece I wrote for a class, upon watching a four movie Superman marathon.
I’ve had his back since he first moved to the city.
He has always been a man apart, afraid of revealing too much of himself and hurting those around him. Lurking in the long shadows he casts, I have given what aid and comfort to him I can—helping draw the living line between real and unreal, his true identity and the secret self he wears during the day.
I was there, looking longingly over his shoulder as he darted about the city with the girl of his dreams hanging on his arm. I stood ready when he cast me aside in order to have her, and it was without complaint that I brushed off the dust when he needed me to leap lickety-split into the action and again save the day.
I was there, perched on his broad back with a knowing wink when he knelt before Zod, who was powerless in the face of his love for this land.
It is here behind him I will stay, languishing lovingly when I am not needed, and rippling behind this steely man when I am, crimson and gold behind his blue, even when the breeze has faded.