That Something

Think of me as a volcano: it’s alright kiddo, he said before he left with his shoes and his smile. I could not handle not flying with him. And as he soared across the clouds and my mind drifted to the skies, we had a time and we did not; his eyes were blue his hair was not, I liked him then and I do not. Clutching at strings, I was, clutching at musical creatures, the way they held on. Sitting on the grey and I don’t recall- another broken promise for another dirty floor; I laced them then, I thought it wise. And all the passers-by being passive with their eyes. Yes, the colour’s changed, I see it red; and sometimes even as I curl up in bed, in my head, his eyes they come right back and they do not; I liked to see and I did not. Don’t tell me it won’t be long, don’t lie, don’t make me kiss you goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye: everything about you is goodbye. And you are rushed and you feel hot; and I am cold and you are not; and I loved you and I did not. My mister bad man, bad man you promised me we’d float, over green and poppy fields we’d float, over sea and clouds but we did not; I tried to cry but I could not; you said you’d stay but you did not; you said you loved and you did not, and I did not.