Whispering on the phone, the night was dark
I could see you in my head, your hand placed on your heart
Blushing, turning red, tearing your knitted sweater apart
Simply because I called you sweetheart.
And the days were honey and orange back then,
Your questions turned into answers when
On a torn piece of paper, with a tired, broken pen
I wrote that nothing could ever be the same again.
On a November night, you showed up at the door
Dressed in yellow, eyes on the floor
“I was thinking of us and couldn’t sleep until four,
Am I just silly to want something more?”
You were young back then, only nineteen
So hopeful and quiet, beautiful and keen,
“We could get satin curtains, paint the walls green,
Hold on to each other, sleep facing the TV screen.”
Blue were the days when you thought I wouldn’t stay,
Your eyes teary, a challenge, asking me to run away,
But in the middle of the dark woods, we somehow found a way
My words became the music to which you could sway.
We stayed up all night, watching the indigo skies
You bubbled up as I watched you to see a laugh rise
The way you’re growing wiser every day, your small whispered lies
Your highs and lows, your fight, your bedroom eyes.
Those were the days of being unsure and afraid,
Nothing had ever felt so pure, not a moment I would trade
Between violet breaths and kisses, your blush begins to fade
I decided to love you once, on a cold, dark night–
And then nothing was ever the same.