Maybe I’ll write a poem too
about your eyes. They’re the color blue
but not like a healthy sky
but then again, you’re not a healthy guy.
icy, like, before a storm
do those “placeholders” keep you warm?
they must, but not like I’d do
what happens when they get wise, too?
Like me. won’t stick around to just continue being lied to.
I mean, shit —
I liked you a lot.
I didn’t only like you when you got bothered and hot.
These big brown eyes
They saw through your disguise
but they came back for more.
I wonder why – The butterflies.