If I had to choose
Between the green of the grass
And the blue of the sky
I'd choose whatever
Caused that glint in your eye.

Because the blue of the sky
Does not know my intentions
Behind words so bold
Such as "I wonder
If I want to grow old?"

I was so obsessed
In not becoming
Another bad memory
For you,
I had not realized
You had become
A nightmare of a memory
For me.

And as I recall
Good times and great times,
I am sad to say
That in the relay
They have been tainted
By the bitter black of your rage.

So congrats,
My dear,
You moved on barely a week
After you left me
Seemingly broken
And seemingly undone,
With nothing to my name
But the sandals on my feet.

But interestingly
Enough
I do not care.

I hope your new flame
Is good to you,
Beady eyes
And all.

And I hope that you are good to her,
Toxic rage,
Volatile guilt trips,
Cruel fists
And all.

For I found that,
Just as before,
I have always preferred
The green of life and living,
And the orange of the sunset
So much beyond
The simple blue
Of the broken shell
Of a robin that never got a chance
To be more than an egg.

I hate the storm of your eyes,
But I no longer fear storms.

Why, you may ask?

Call me Storm Siren.

Maybe you'll understand then.