you told me time heals everything, baby, but it's been eight days and the iridescent taste of your lips still sits in my mouth like acid. i always like what's bad for me, and i always end up getting that much more hurt in the end. the boy who wore black loved the girl who wore pink. you told me opposites attract. i was to naive to see what you were doing. you were halloween and i was easter, baby. don't you see? you were the art in the museum that no one understood but liked anyway; the hours between 12 and 5a.m.; the fifth grade birthday party that no one showed up to; the sentences with no meaning behind them. my heart never learned to love so quick in the back of a pick-up truck on a saturday night. and from then on, it was us, it was you and me, no coming and going, staying. i'll love you forever, baby. i'll love you forever, baby. forever. we were everything the world wanted us to be (or so i thought). i snuck out to see you on friday's and our skin turned to alcohol. we were drowning in a world of melodramatic love songs playing from a scratchy stereo system you got when you were six. we danced without knowing the words. you told me you loved me as your soft whispers found their way down my body. and we would wake, red eyes in disguise, living a life more for ourselves than for each other. i liked the feeling of being drunk and in love; you drank to forget the memories of the last girl who kissed your sorrows into nothingness. opposites don't attract as well as you led me to believe, do they, baby? and for twenty seven days and four hours, there we were. pretending like we had something in common, pretending we liked the way the alcohol infected our lungs, pretending the fights we had were necessary, pretending we liked skipping school to **** in your car in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere. we were pretending so much that we never knew the real us. we were hollow, we were glass all along. we are glass. no matter how you put it; you were stained glass and i was a snow globe, you were a window and i was a light bulb, we still shatter. we fell apart like we'd been struck by lightning. a million pieces of you and a million pieces of me in the atmosphere.