the sky is all ashes today, painted black with the burnt ruins with what-used-to-be.

words are all i have left, so i guess i should say them, even if you'll never hear them:


i would've painted the world pink for you, just to make you smile [even though we both know i'd rather it be blue]. i would've jumped off a bridge with you, felt the wind screaming into my skin and fear rushing through my being, just to hold your hand. i would've ripped down all my glass walls if it meant you'd let me in.

we could've drawn a map of the world and then, maybe, we wouldn't feel so lost. but we'd probably screw it up anyway since we're both bad at directions, but hey, it'd be a laugh, right?

and i'd do anything to hear your laugh.

we could've drawn hearts onto the backs of our hands just to match. we could've caught dragonflies in the summer, and i'd tell you maybe they know what happy feels like.
you would've understood.

we could've hidden under the covers during the thunderstorms, and i'd tell you how i love lightning but i'm scared to death of thunder.
we could've stayed up far-too-late and talked secrets, and i would've asked if you could carry me, sometimes, because sometimes i weigh too much for myself to handle. and then i would've told you that i'd always be there for you, even when it's chaos, even when no one else is listening to you.

except your laugh isn't meant for me anymore, and hearts were never meant to stay. the thunderstorms always lasted too long, anyway, and happiness was burned with everything else.

except you don't want me there for you, anyway.