Caught in a wave

dear boy,
i'll start off simple and easy, a steady walk through the park.
because that's how my days go.
count them one at a time, hour by hour, with novels breathing english teacher resolutions through my mind, giving me something to think about when i'm not thinking about you.
i count them on my fingers, like the reasons you have to leave.
x.
you don't know this, but it's hardest in the morning. when light is first making it's approach and all the little school girls and school boys tumble their way down the hill and onto the yellow bus. it's hardest in the morning,
when i wake up and think
"this is what my life has become, this is what i have to live for"
and nothing comes to mind.
nothing i have that's important enough, nothing but english words forever stamped into paperback stories and a boy with blue eyes who will surely forget timid me in six years.
it's hardest in the morning,
when i don't know what to expect in the coming hours.
hardest in the morning,
when i can't see whether you'll leave or stay.
x.
dear boy,
so you've got a blue eyed girl, with caramel colored hair hidden underneath gallons of dye. blue eyes that shine gray, like her father's.
like the man with the Devil's eyes.
blue eyes that are secretly just gray.
just gray.
maybe that's the thing.
she has so many secrets up around her shoulders, beating down into her blades, her arms getting heavy from trying to hold her up, and legs snapping from her crash landing.
that blue eyed (gray eyed) girl you can't get enough of is just too much to handle and she keeps thinking you'll leave and take a thin, blonde girl with you.
so she tucks her secrets closer to her heart and bleeds another promise out, hoping that if she can't give you pretty confessions, at least she can give you whole hearted promises.
x.
dear boy,
eventually you'll get tired of these riddles and these rhymes. these lovely letters in secret, like all the other romance stories she's heard.
boy meets girl,
boy falls for girl,
boy leaves girl.
eventually, you'll be just like the heroes in her stories.
the pretty words in her novels.
the sad ending in her favorite poem.