it hurt her;
every single bits
and pieces of
flowers she vomits;
they tasted like
sandpaper,
they hurt like
the feeling of
being stabbed in
the back by the
person you love
the most (both
physically and
emotionally),
but what hurt her the
most is that
he wasn't really
worth dying for—
but she was afraid
of losing him;
of forgetting the
feeling of loving him.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
it hurt her;
every single bits
and pieces of
flowers she vomits;
they tasted like
sandpaper,
they hurt like
the feeling of
being stabbed in
the back by the
person you love
the most (both
physically and
emotionally),
but what hurt her the
most is that
he wasn't really
worth dying for—
but she was afraid
of losing him;
of forgetting the
feeling of loving him.
