You're an artist.
Your hands bring to life
creatures
like something from a dreamy little
fairytale.
Where happily-ever-after
is still real.
Where you just need a magic wand and
- poof -
the girl's yours.
Red, yellow, orange,
Green, blue, purple.
You can color the rainbow and
make dreams come true.
But, it's not real.
It's never real.
...
The moment you see her you know
it's love.
Sweaty palms
Nervous laughter
Awkward smiles
Maybe you're going
insane.
You, Louis Wealsey, never
feel this way.
But that girl with
a pretty little smile
sparkly eyes
and
curly blond hair
she's going to
break you.
...
She doesn't love you.
...
Lie to yourself, darling.
Pretend it's all okay.
It's not. It never is.
Brush it all off,
deny your pain.
Play that pretty little game and go
way too deep.
You played with fire, baby,
deep, dark, dangerous
some one's going to pay.
Looks like it your turn.
This is turning out pretty dang angst-y, isn't it? Review, pretty please?