The boy in the blue house won't come out
Even though I'm sure he's seen me cry
Oftentimes I wonder if he listens to my voice
The melodies that force their way out of my throat
I wonder if he sees the bags under my eyes
Or the sun hit my face right as it breaks through the clouds
Maybe it's stupid to wish for a boy I haven't seen in years
Maybe it's stupid that I still feel like a child
Either way, I know he can see me sometimes
I know he can hear the way I hurt
Seasons change but I don't
Seasons change and you go
The boy in the blue house is a mystery
I only know that he likes to watch the stars from his roof
I'm watching them too
I'm watching them too
YOU ARE READING
Open Palms
PoetryA book of hopefully less angsty poems than my previous one, "From the Heart". Don't worry, they're still mostly sad. *** Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi
