you told me i looked great in blue so i taught myself not to breathe around you so that maybe you would like me too.
you were always mesmerized by stained glass windows, so why did my stained glass heart never intrigue you enough to make you stay.
you said that there was something aesthetic about pain, so when i broke every last bit of myself for you, why didn't you see my beauty.
you always said the blue of my eyes reminded you of the ocean. later i found out you hated the beach and the way the sea never failed to kiss the shore. i always hoped you hated it because you couldn't kiss me.
one time you told me that you hated the way my mother always took me from you. i wasn't sure if you hated that she took me or that she took the only thing keeping you from being lonely...