He's the little white lie tucked away in the corner of your cheek,

in the crevice of your teeth.

He's the truth in the biggest lie you keep tucked away,

hidden underneath your pillow at night when the bare limbs of the trees sway.


He's yellow--

the sun in the rain,

during midday.


He's the one that is there to impress,

the one that said he loved you,

and left.

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.

Listen to me.


Don't fall for the boy with curly brown hair.

Don't fall for the boy who treats you with a blanket of clouds,

and when he sees you he floats into the open air.

Don't fall for the boy with utter oceans in his eyes,

Don't fall for him when he writes you songs.

Don't fall to fix him when you see the sad grey clouds in his ocean eyes,

Don't fall for him when he sings you his songs.



Listen to me,

take my advice.

Don't you dare fall for the curly headed boy with ocean blue eyes.

It's 70 degrees in the middle of December.

I lie alone.

I listen to my fan drone,

I think of us.


I used to believe

it was rather indubitably meant to be.

I used to believe you would always be there,

here.

I used to believe there would never be a time,

I would never see a time when you would be through.

When you would give up.


I let you in,

you let me keep you in my own private aluminum tin.

I kept you and I loved you.


I think now,

I think of your ocean eyes,

I hear the thunder crack in the crevice of my mind,

I feel the green demons flash from eye to eye in my own oceans,

I can do nothing but sigh.



Like the heat of December,

we were flaming.

We were 70 degrees,

We were 80 degrees.



I hate you like I hate the heat of December.

In this 70 degree weather, I think of you,

I think of her.


Because I loved you, I made you go.

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.

I fell for you,

yearned for you,

trusted you.

Hell, I think I might've even loved you.


But you let me fall,

and believe me, I miss your calls,

but I think I might miss you, too.

Atleast I think I do?

Or maybe, hopefully, it's just the idea of you?

Yeah, I think that's what made me love you,

us.



But, I think, maybe, just maybe,

I still love you.