You made me promise not to leave you,

I did what you asked without a lingering thought,

on the condition that you never left,

me.


You loved me and I promise, I swear,

I loved you too,

even if I never showed it to you.


But the thing I think is funny,

is also the thing I think is sad.

While I had promised to never leave you,

you had played a trick,

the one the ***** magicians play

in the back of the darkest alleyway.

It was a small gesture,

simple enough.

You had those fingers, behind your back,

crossed.


I was the only one to keep their promise,

because you were the one that left.

They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.

Why?

Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.


She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.


The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.





But you haven't come back.