Bloom.

The Green

She thinks I don't know.
But I can see the suspicion in her eyes.
She knows what I've been through this week.
But she sets that aside.
And instead she lets her eyes turn green.
She glares behind those white teeth.
She lets her mouth run mean.

And I know exactly what she's hiding.
Exactly what is behind those perfect teeth.
Because despite her smile she isn't really smiling.
She is rather doubting, herself, her friends, her home.
So she lets her eyes turn green.
She glares behind those white teeth.
She lets her mouth run mean.

But her words aren't really hers.
They're the pain that's talking, the hurt.
Her words become one hurting blur.
Blinding her, making her unaware.
So she lets her eyes turn green.
She glares behind those white teeth.
She lets her mouth run mean.

But I won't let my eyes turn green.
Because green is a glassy kind of color.
And I won't let my mouth turn mean.
Despite the words that push behind my lips.
But she lets her eyes turn green.
She glares behind those white teeth.
She lets her mouth run mean.