don't tell her that I still write about her.
don't tell her that every chance I get, I steal a moment or two to think about her.
don't tell her that I miss the sound of her voice, the scent of her hair, and the way her fingers intertwined with mines.
don't tell her that I still think about the day our lips met for the first time,
and the way her eyes held my heart.
don't tell her that I miss her and the way her beauty marks sit perfectly on her cheeks.


I promised her I'd be strong.
but let me just have this one night.

November 28, I met this girl.
She was broken. From the bullies that struck her with their words.

We got to know eachother. I got to know her favorite color, favorite food, favorite song.

Through out the the weeks we talked, I found out how truly broken she was. How words cut like knife, how she had demons inside of her.

I also realized that I was falling for her. I was falling for a broken girl. When I myself was a broken girl.

I fought with my feelings.
I couldn't be. I wouldn't be... Gay.

I found out she liked me too.

It drove me insane. Me liking a girl? Wanting to be with a girl? It was absurd. My mom would never approve.

Months later.
We're 5 months. 5 months of her being mines, and me being hers. 5 months of tears. 5 months of laughs. 5 months of love. 5 months of hate. 5 months of two broken girls trying to fix eachother.

Can we succeed or will more months pass as the little happiness we have left disappear. And our demons strengthen.

I met this girl. She changed everything.