I gave the boy with the pretty frame-worthy eyes a pen the other day in class,
I switched the top of the black one I gave him to the blue that I used, and vice verse-a giving him a blue-black pen and me a black-blue one.
To him, in that moment,
I was just goofing off in class instead of listening to the teacher yap,
But to me, the pens and the colors meant something,
The day I made that blue-black pen, I was trying to make me and him,
The blue me, the black him, and together, us.
It was my heart,
And me giving him the blue-black pen was in a way, me giving him my love.
Maybe he missed the message in between the lines, or maybe he chose to by pass it,
Or maybe,
What I thought we had going on, was a delusion,
Maybe it was only one sided, and the connection was all in my head,
Perhaps I should’ve left the pens alone,
leaving my feelings unknown, and the lack of reciprocation would’ve hurt a little less,
But now my heart aches,
Especially whenever I see that cursed blue-black pen.
