crayons and chalk.

To the boy that was never mine,


pastels fall apart across fingertips made from crescent moons and hearts rich in oxygen, your smile shifts, eroding becoming a spectrum,

but when i look at you, all i see is grey.


--

you leaked a paper trail onto my lungs,
and decorated my irises with sorbet.
you were trying to persuade me that you
were made of lemons, limes and other
exotic fruit,

you needed to be more than just standard,
and i needed to be perfect for you;

in the end,
we collapsed,

with you syphoning away the oxygen i had
stored up for times like this, and freeing it
to a world made of war and futile attempts
at a false peace.

--

stone coloured walls and ivory piano keys
remind me of you.

you were self involved with blue eyes,
buttons that could pour crocodile tears
and obscure thoughts of disbelief.

but, i truly adored you,
but you were too obsessed with being sophisticatedly lonely.

depression was the new fashion trend,
and you wore it as scarlet ribbons wrapped around
golden flesh.

--

blueberry irises and goose-pimpled fingertips,
fragile and bland, you hung around the left ventricle
of my heart attempting to block out any oxygen
i could've inhaled,

you were too wrapped up in potions made up of lust
for other girls and a snobbish dislike for things that were
considered beneath you, to notice that i was feebly
fading into a world made up of broken pieces of planets
and strands of grass.

i went to Jupiter for you, and you sneered
whilst melting your heart into the palm of someone else.

--

whilst i sit and decipher statements like:
i once loved you and i love you, but-- .
it occurs to me now, that i was better off falling into
realms made of marshmellow and orange sherbet, than
attempting to discover and decode you,

you didn't want to be understood,
and you never really wanted to love me.

--



you were made up of a rainbow
assortment of liquorice and sherbet,
other girls hearts and their fingernails that clung to you
like gravity, you stole my heart as easily as fire burns through me.
you always had a quaint dislike of public displays of affection,

i always thought you were shy,
it took me an age to realise,
you're just a brilliant actor,
and i only have myself to blame.

--

from the girl that has finally stopped loving you