He had blue eyes, the reflective colour of the pool water that he would've taken me to on Valentine's Day where he would've topped with a kiss that probably tastes of 3am sadness and cigarettes. I remember he told me that he'd been to dark places, and I tried to imagine him in a wood, with nothing more than a knife and a backpack, trying to find a place to stay, or a girl, he could eventually spend the night with. He wasn't like that. But before I had the chance to ask him why, or how, I remembered me sitting on the bathroom floor, crying, screaming, with makeup all over my face, hoping that maybe this time someone on this football called planet earth would notice the real thing behind my angelic face and blue streak in my hair, which fitted perfectly with his eyes. And that moment, I understood everything.
I had been to dark places too.
YOU ARE READING
about the boys i've loved
Romancejust a bunch of short poem, story like excerpts bout thoughts and emotions of boys who have been in my life i will not be using their actual names.
