The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.

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41. Once

There was a boy I once knew who had eyes like the ocean that little kids swam in.

His friends called him the funny one, and they laughed at all his jokes.

When his friends weren’t around, he had no one to talk to, so he stared out the window.

I thought he was beautiful.

There was a boy I once knew who had eyes as empty as the winter sky.

His friends used to call him the funny one, and now they laugh at other kid’s jokes.

When his friends weren’t around, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, so he plugged in his headphones and tuned out the world.

I thought he was beautiful.

There was a boy I once knew who had eyes as translucent as stained glass.

His friends were never around, and he had no one to talk to, so he cut his wrist everyday.

I thought he was beautiful.

There was a boy I once knew whose eyes used to glitter radiantly.

His friends came to his funeral, and they regretted not being there for him, so they cried endlessly.

And as I walk up to his grave, I tell him he is beautiful.

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