You've been twisting stories from my heart.

About a girl
who accidently met
a boy,
who accidently didn't mean to tumble into her thoughts by night.

And the girl
didn't pose same faced pictures of those that were being told that they were beautiful
by the boy,
who didn't know what beauty really was until he fell into her arms, and saw something different.
Something lovely.

And that girl,
she would've danced on blades of thickened grass, or fire, for
that boy,
who incidentally didn't know he was dancing on thin lines around her fragile heart.

And this girl?
Whose skin melted every time she saw his eyes and who carried the world instead of her hair on her shoulders, kept dancing, on tacks, bricks, and concrete for him. She pointed to the heavens with her fingertips, praying that happiness was worth more than all the scars on her heart. She pulled her fibers into a being so exquisite that the trees were folding down her cheeks and the rain found her compelling enough to roll thunder through her heart and bring through her eyes those perfect clouds of blue that matched
His.
And the boy?
Who watched beauty be created in front of his stormy eyes, danced too. And he felt that his skin started to melt within the rain as well, onto the tacks, bricks, and concrete. And he pointed to the heavens with his fingerprints, declaring that he knew that happiness was worth more than the scars that she was carving off his heart, piece by piece. He pulled at her fibers and went cheek to cheek with her because he found her to be too compelling to fight off, making his being so exquisite that the thunder took voice and the lightning restarted his heart, after it had been broken by

another girl.

These stories from my heart are being made up

because of a girl,
who simply wanted someone to be as genuinely interested in her as she was in
a boy,
who after months of breaking down walls and steaming new jokes on old bed sheets
forgot to tell her.

And the girl
became the one who got away because of
the boy,
who became the one who let her go.

And their love story ends here because
The girl? Well,
She loved him more than he would ever know...
And the boy? Well,
He loved her more than he would ever tell.

But now each night when
that girl
hears the thunder dancing outside her window, she'll think of
that boy,
who feels the lightning and thinks of the perfect night...

when they danced through the rain