DROP

I am sorry-- to all the boys who ever broke my heart,

I never realized your position may have been even harder.

The first one, the blue eyed boy, you couldn't bear to do it to my face.

Maybe not for the dark eyed boy, you seemed okay with it.

But even the green eyed boy, I know now it tortured you for months.

And to the caramel eyed boy:

I am so sorry I always brought up my broken heart.

Between sentences.

Between high school desks. 

In the air between your fingers and the ones you refused to touch, mine.

I am sorry I filled every open space with my broken heart,

I thought I was demanding that you see it,

I didn't realize until now,

you saw it in every mirror, at every turn, 

you were trying instead to see the possibilities on the other side,

and I was blocking your view.

Thank you for gently asking me to step aside.

I am all the sudden realizing what it must of felt like for those boys.

Because I've become a blue eyed girl holding a brown eyed boy's heart.

Don't bump me, I might drop it.