His lips,
though attached to
a peculiar face,
were beautiful,
too enticing to ignore,
making me feel like a kid
on Halloween,
my mouth full of
the sweetness I knew I shouldn't
have so much of, smiling
while my stomach ached
with a foreign, flittering excitement
that made me smile even more, and
radiating yellow bliss
to kill the blueness in my mind
and melt the glacier in my chest,
creating an undeniable urge to let him
into the now warm, pulsating
center of my being,
but he wanted a part of me I wasn't
willing to give up;
in an effort to receive
my precious gift,
he began spouting promises of a today
and a tomorrow, to make up for
a pitiful, lonely yesterday,
promises that never bloomed,
causing debilitating hatred
to consume my every memory of him
and freeze my heart once again,
so that now, I'm wondering, if either
one of us meant it when we said,
"I love you," because if he did,
why couldn't he wait,
why did he vanish, and more
importantly, if I loved him,
why didn't I fight harder
to keep the one person
that's ever made me feel alive?