he smiles with his clear blue eyes, drops of the sky with bits of daylight. you're the opposite, all midnight covered stars and broken fragments of the moon. he says he cries sometimes, because of you, but you wonder if he's ever even thought of you like that. so you press the tips of your fingers to his cheek and try to see how it feels when he smiles, but you can't. and when you fall off the swing set, it's all woodchips and bruises instead of sky with bits of daylight.