Blueberries

Blueberries

His lips tasted like the blueberries that rarely occupy my fridge anymore because it’s not summer and it’s not the season for blueberries and I guess it’s not the season for him either but maybe when the summer does comes he’ll wish my hand was out his window surfing the force of 80mph instead of her hand sitting delicately in her lap and maybe when the summer does come his coffee eyes will wake me up to a day of understood smiles and quiet kisses and i’ll be his first thought everyday and that girl will be past forgotten and maybe when summer does come i’ll be a little bit more fearless and I won’t be scared of our connection i’ll trust myself a little more to know I made the right decision and when summer comes I hope he finds passion but what I really mean is I hope he finds me cause I can’t bear the thought of her kissing his cheek no matter how much it makes him smile and I lied at the beginning of this he doesn’t taste like blueberries he taste like the silver necklace I never take off but whenever I eat blueberries I imagine a summer day only him and me and the world miles away.