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.