Red

Red-tinted eyes
see the world and
angry words spurt
from those too-red

lips.

Everything is red,
your T-shirt and
converse shoes, too.
I block out the noise my

ears

can't handle. Because
if I had to listen to you
and see you, I'd just go
over the top, steaming

mad.

You try to calm me down
but it's futile. That means
useless, 'cuz I know you
don't read much. And that

hurts,

because it reminds me how
you thought it was so cute
when I curled up, reading.
How you'd wrap your arms

around

me, pull me close to you. You
hate reading, but not as much
as you used to. The reason for
this change? Me and only me.

That

is something else I can't handle.
The way I changed you, certain
opinions you had, certain views
of the world. You thought it was

all

“falling to shit” as you so vividly
put it. I changed you from cynic
to optimist. I'm wondering now,
while you're still trying to explain

yourself,

will you go back to how you were
before me, or will you stay this way?
Will you want to forget me, or not?
You know what, it's gone on for too

long.