The Boy Who Looked Away

You walked in slow, all cool and vague,
A silent storm, a sweet old plague.
You smiled like none of it would stay,
But left your gaze on me each day.

You joked, you stared, then looked right through,
Like games were all you ever knew.
One moment warm, the next one cold,
Too young to love, too proud to hold.

You whispered lies when backs were turned,
Then watched the bridges you had burned.
You called me names I’d never earn,
And still, for me, your glances yearned.

You told your friends I chased you twice,
That I was fake, not worth the price.
Yet every time I caught your glance,
You looked like you had missed your chance.

I asked you once — about that call.
You lied with guilt pressed through it all.
You didn’t own what you had done,
You just turned quiet, turned to run.

But then I wore that dress — pitch black,
And suddenly, you wanted back.
Your silence cracked, your ego bent,
But I was gone. My strength was spent.

You stared like I was made of gold,
Like I was fire you couldn’t hold.
But stares mean nothing when you're weak,
Too scared to act, too proud to speak.

I should have yelled, I could’ve screamed,
But you’re not worth the fight I dreamed.
I walked away with quiet grace,
While guilt still clings to your two-faced face.

You lost me not through one mistake,
But every lie you chose to fake.
And now I rise — I glow, I grow,
While you stay stuck in what you know.

So here’s your truth, and here’s your shame:
You never played the winning game.
You had my heart, but not my name —
And I’ve moved on. You’re not the same.