That boy.
He sleeps over
more than I had planned.
He makes me tea
in his boots
& grey hat.

I lay in my bed,
silently watching
through the crack
in the door.
He looks like a statue.
A god.
With his broad shoulders
and messy hair.

He wants me to be happy.
I know by how perfect
my tea tastes.

I guess he didn't hear the stories.
The ones about the girl you could
never keep smiling.
Who loved her misery
more than her lover.
The girl that will
scream & cry 
until she breaks him.
& then discreetly disappear
through the back door.

But he doesn't know this yet.
He thinks that I'm just 
watching through the cracks,
staring at his beautiful body
& flawless hands.
Oblivious to the fact
that my gaze has shifted.
Focused on the open door behind him.
My feet have instinctively
slipped into the tattered soles
of my old boots.
View blissnc's Full Portfolio