THE BOY
He was the boy who never saw himself above you. He was the boy with the craziest and messiest hair but always stayed composed and well behaved. He was the boy who made you his priority. He was the boy who compared you to Greek Goddesses. He was the boy with the witty and smart comments and when people heard them and laughed, he would flush bright red of embarrassment as he chuckled along. He was the boy you understood things that other people didn't. He was the boy with patience - enough patience to slowly unlock people who were hard to read. He was the boy whom your parents adored. He was the boy who made you a mix tape instead of buying roses because 'music lasts forever and flowers don't'. He was the boy who fell weak when he saw you in agony. He was the boy who was cherished by many, many people.
He was the boy who drew the curtains shut and murdered his skin.
YOU ARE READING
Thunderstorms at 2 AM
PoetryI get these thunderstorms at 2 AM and this is what they are. (Monologues, poems, letter entries, etc)
