The boy with the crooked smile,
tells me that I have riot eyes.
That when he looks into them,
all he sees is the chaos and he just...
gets lost.
He says he can remember when he met me,
and my eyes were soft,
when they twinkled playfully in the Christmas lights,
that hung in my bedroom window,
while we laughed and danced,
and loved,
until the soft morning light lulled us to sleep.
"Do you remember that?"
he says.
And I look away,
unable to look at him.
Because I know the answer,
and he knows the answer.
He knows.
"Can you remember that?"
His voice more pleading, than asking.
And he looks at me,
like he's looking for who I used to be.
Looking for any sign that the girl he loved all those years ago,
is still breathing,
somewhere.
But there's just silence.
"What happened to you."
he says.
It isn't a question,
just a statement that he finally whispers under his breath
from across the bed
while we sit there,
drowning in the final dying remnants of who we used to be.