I used to dance late at night with the boy who had ocean eyes. I would swim in them while he spun me around the room and across the floor. He stepped off the beach and into my arms, and I floated in his embrace. When he left before morning I would cry sad saltwater tears, and he’s kiss my forehead and wipe them away. I never saw him during the day, my boy with the ocean eyes. The sun would come up and sweep him away.
A boy with midnight eyes told me stories some nights. He talked through the chiming of the clock. After the twelfth chime he would kiss me goodbye, and compliment me on the stars hiding behind my eyes. His stories were always sad and I never understood them completely, but he was surrounded by darkness and wrote them just for me. I tried my best to hear him but his message was unclear. After he would bid me goodnight I would slip into a stardust sleep. I never cried for the boy with midnight eyes.
Rubies woke me up in the morning. Ruby eyes full of lies. The boy with the ruby eyes never said a word, but he was there one moment and gone the next, just like everything else in the world that’s beautiful. I would reach for him and he would step back. I would retreat and he would come forward. He was never really there for long. Not long before he was gone. First moment my foot touched the floor I would look longingly around, but he was never there. I never miss the boy with ruby eyes.
Over tea I would spend time with empty eyes and long sighs. He always sat beside me but his chair always felt empty. He would hold me but I felt as if I was never really in his arms. It seemed like he was there but he wasn’t. The light was on but no one was home. He loved me because he knew he should, not because he felt it. I was never sad when the boy with the empty eyes left. I sighed and stayed silent. He was always gone so long.
Mid afternoon I spent my time surrounded by clouds. I held on to him to keep him from floating away. He always graced me with sloppy kisses and sideways smiles; I always sighed and watched him stare off for miles. His eyes were foggy and his pupils were big. I don’t know how I kept him grounded as long as I did. I cried for ages when he floated away. He’ll never come back and it won’t be okay.
I miss my boy and his kaleidoscope eyes. He yelled when he was angry and held me when I cried. He flew way too high and fell way too quick. I personally love the ocean, if only I got to pick. I held him down but he still left the ground. Even when he tried to hide, I still knew when he was empty inside. He was always calm once he got his fix, but I could see the holes that littered his wrists. It’s too late now to stop what I could’ve. I couldn’t ever catch him when I knew that I should’ve. The ocean, the sky, emptiness, or night, even rubies didn’t feel quite right. I miss my boy when his eyes were green, green like life, like hope, like dreams, and green before they got him and turned him to the high. Green like when he slept next to me at night.