Your blue eyes pierced mine once again
The gust from the metro passing swiftly
Blew my hair across my face
But time stopped and we stood still.

You held nothing,
Your hands ****** in those denim pockets.
We meet within this dark, cobblestoned tunnel
I can’t stand the warm, brightness of today
I want the stormy, broken bits of our blue April.

Yes, I want your calm, soft hands in mine
No, I don’t want your red roses
or your yellow note lined letter.
I want what keeps you warm.

Come closer,
I want that blue sweater your wearing.
The one that smells of musty cologne
and weaves together all those blue shades.
The one I used to wear.