The Boy

That boy has eyes of tourmaline
I like to write him pictures
You know I find his aura one I don't have
To pay to see

We fell in sync though
Admitted it individually
The boy has hands of
Countryside air
I'd like to hold them anywhere

Obsidian hair
You know I'd die if you shaved it all off
But you joke about it because you wouldn't dare
Except to try something new

Syenite rocks are plutonic rocks
And not so enchanting
Neither are perfectly platonic
Perfectly emphatic
Friendships

I always crush a little bit
On the people who enchant me
And truth is I could never see you just as
A little friend
Not when your heart reflects a bit of mine
Your name
It echoes in a song

But the boy is not mine to keep
Your heart was never mine to keep
We both had to climb a mountain and
Slaughter each other on an altar and I don't know
Who is left standing but I know
The One who brought us here is still here
I do believe
He said
Follow me, follow me, follow me
And I will
Free you, free you, free you
And teach you how to Love like I wrote