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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