he used to be my boy

He used to be my boy.
We met last May,
in the summer winds like cherry blossoms
we'd sway.
He always was reaching for my hand,
spinning me closer,
whispering in my ear

But I wanted to see the world,
so I left this lonely island,
and ventured off into the sea
of a million magical mysteries.
And still, he
He made melodies so sweet,
sang them to me on the phone,
and we both knew
we'd never be alone.

I came home, to his arms,
and so we journeyed on
He watched me crumble,
he watched me fall,
I fought his offers
to help at all.
I watched him break,
I watched him turn
away from the train-wreck of disaster
that now defined us.
And so I chose to leave,
so we could both be free
out of loving each
so toxically.

He used to be my boy,
and that hasn't changed.
I still can't look at his face
without seeing him in my bed,
my head resting on his chest
with the rise and fall of every breath
I fell more in love.

He used to be my boy,
I cry when I hear him play
those melodies so sweet
they melted me,
because I know he's no longer surveying the audience
searching for my smile.
We've both moved on, accepting that
though we said forever,
it was just a fling.
But somehow, I can't let go.
He used to be the other half of me.

The End

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