dedicated to the boy with grey eyes

to: the girl with her feet in the water.

someday you're going to wake up and realize that you're all alone.

people will brush by you, their electricity making you feel alive, and you will see that they don't know you exist.

truth: you don't have any idea who you want to be.

yesterday, she painted you're fingertips green, as the boy who is somewhat in love with her sat and watched you like you were the night. she said you had to talk slower, didn't she? in words that actually made sense for once. She said you had to hold your own hand, because if you reached for anyone else's, you'd fall.

girl with tangled hair,

you haven't forgotten him yet, have you?

sometimes he comes back, slipping like paint down your crooked fingers. sometimes you remember the day when you stood like a child at the big picture window -  you were watching snowflakes die as they fell i think, and you thought it was the most beautiful thing - and then he came and wrapped his long arms around you like vines. you were trapped, and he called you his flower.

he thought you were beautiful. did you know that?





once, he stood by you and just breathed you in. you never knew you were air before.




he drowned you often, in his eyes, in his hands. He held you like the reflection of the moon in his cupped lips.

once, he thought you were an angel, and he touched your back with his fluttering hand. he was trying to find your wings, and when you told him brokenly that you didn't have any, he just shrugged.

he said it was something you could shoot for.



girl with a loneliness like the autumn air, and eyes like the sun after it decides to die,

i know a  secret about you.
you still miss him.
this is why you always have a star burning a hole in your pocket.


i want to know.

why did you do it?

why did you break him? you knew how easy it would be.


he trusted you like a tree trusts the rain, like the ground and the sun and the air are once with each other.















he once wrote you a letter, and then he wrote you a poem. just once.
















you say that you don't care anymore. that the smell of the ocean has replaced the way you lay on his chest as he whispered stories in your hair.

but if you really used fire to take his memory from your mind,

then why...

did you memorize the nine lines of his poem?



you can't fool me



sometimes




you pretend to remember the way his fingers curled around yours and trapped them and he kissed you dustily.


he was an enigma


he was yours


now he's lost himself, and he's lost you, no matter how hard he tries to find you in every sunset, no matter how he peeks under every wave, hoping to find you at the bottom of the lake...









once, he had grey eyes and thin lips and hair that looked like the night you met him.
once, you loved him like rocks and tigers and falling down a hill into a patch of four leafed clovers.

you gave him a rock that said courage, and he gave you his life.

but you dropped it, didn't you?