The Boy
He sits on his bed at
home
Cold and alone
And he thinks about her
She'd changed so much, but
he still knew her
He thought he knew her
He thought they were the same
inside
And maybe they were, more than he knew
He reaches over, picks up
the phone
Realizes there's no one left to call
No one who could ever
understand
He picks up the battered picture frame
And stares at her one
more time
He'd never forget the sound of her smile
And the way her
laughter was like rain
Tinking on crystal
He would never forget the
darkness
In her eyes, the circle around them
He would never forget the
fire
She kept contained within them
He stares at the picture, at them
together
The two of them, once so happy
Now, he the only one left,
desolate and alone
He'd acted like he didn't care for so long
Too long,
now it was too late to care
She'd left him alone for good
How could she do
this to him?
She had too vivid an imagination,
Always had.
And now he
was alone.
He lays down to sleep, to think, to breathe
Never knowing she's
standing
Right in front of him, forever.
March 9,
2003
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