When the ashes settle, perhaps you won't remember all the bad times. You won't really think of the mess he left you or the disappointment. You'll recall the beautiful times. Like kissing on the Farris wheel and holding hands because you're fear of heights (you didn't really have a fear of heights). You'll remember the small times. Like a corny saying he always said. Or maybe the way his eyes looked when he talked about his favorite sport (or his once, favorite girl). And they won't be 'little things' they'll be hurricanes. Theses memories will be natural disasters in the most beautiful of ways. Memories are so magical. They affect you in so many ways. And it's funny how we tuck the unhappy memories in the back of our mind. As if we're trying to save ourselves from the 'natural disaster'. Almost as though we're forced to see the best in people. But just like everything, memories are both good and bad.
he's everything you wanted. everything you wished for. he'll twist his fingers through your hair. and tell you pretty lies like "I love you more than anything". he'll laugh at your jokes but inside he'll think they're lame. he'll call you beautiful but also think she is too. he'll say too much when he wants to get out of a situation. and he's not who you thought he was, is he? but you knew when his lips tasted like sugar and his touch burned like a fire, that he would get more than a second or third chance for all his endless mistakes. because everyone makes 'mistakes', right?
Boy with the beautiful smile-
Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled
Boy with the amount of love to fill an ocean-
Everybody said we were 'perfect' together
And I always thought they just said that
But I believed it one day a couple weeks ago
When I saw you with her, your eyes were emotionless
Boy with crooked pinky-
Sometimes I intertwine my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here
Boy who called me angel-
I still write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And darling, you're one of them.
Boy who listened to music with me-
I still listen to our song on rainy summer nights
As the sun goes down and my smiles turn to frowns
Sometimes (all the time) I wonder where you are?
How are you?
Boy who let me borrow his sweatshirt-
My favorite foods don't taste the same anymore
Not after the sparks of your tongue burnt my mouth
Not to mention, how you left my eyes lifeless
Foods don't even look appetizing anymore
Boy with the corny jokes and sayings-
Today I heard someone say your favorite phrase
It used to annoy me to no end
But this time I teared up because it was funny
And I was just to dumb to realize it then
Boy with the lovely blue eyes-
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I may never see you again
While your off somewhere beautiful
Smiling and laughing with her
At least you are happy
(p.s. these are all
for, about, and to
you and always you
it will always be you.
I miss you so much.)
He fell in love like the changing of seasons. With new leaves and new snows and new beginnings and new growths.
There was fall-
With her simple thoughts and opinions
And her kind words to everyone
Not to mention her ability to learn quickly
(He was an unanswered problem on a math quiz)
There was winter-
Coincidentally, she was winter, with a heart like hers.
She was a challenge and not even he could conquer
Challenging herself to play every instrument there was
(Including his heart strings)
There was spring-
Who was the hopeless romantic
Wide and starry eyed
She always had a smile on her face and her laugh traveled
(He was the only one who knew how secretly sad she was)
There was summer-
Because he believed seasons changed
But people are not poems and this is just a metaphor
She was as cold as winter and a season between could not change that
(Summer love always comes to an end, Spring thinks hopefully)
So here I am, Spring, writing about a boy who thinks he can change girls like seasons. He wants to change them for the better. Yet, he leaves them worse. And I, Spring, was already sad enough before he came.
— The End —