Lying on that beach,
Under the calmer Sun,
Hands sifting in sand...

Touching your fingers,
Feeling so alive today,
Holding your hand...

he loved her because she was pretty
like the ocean and because her favorite color was black
he loved her because she was disaster enough to
leave marks on her skin and tears on her chin
he loved her because she was the poster child of anti and rebel
and because she bled onto paper in beautiful words

she did not love him because he couldn't understand that she
wasn't the poster child of anti she was just a misunderstood girl and
she didn't like being a disaster, she hated it
he couldn't understand that she bled onto paper for survival and that
her beautiful words tormented her
he couldn't understand that even if she was as pretty as an ocean on the outside
she was a tsunami on the inside

and
her
favorite
color
was
actually
a
very
dark
shade
of
grey

she didn't love him because he never really loved her

(h.l.)