SHE
Shes laying on the bed with her iPod on full blast
the door is locked, and the curtains are locked
on the TV screen is the notebook
an empty tub of her favorite ice cream is on the floor
smudged with makeup, her finger tips are stained
from wiping away her eye liner and makeup, stained tears
there last conversation plays in her head
she thinks to herself
that shell never get him back

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HE
Hes on the edge of his bed the doors locked
his room is pitch black from the absence of lights
theirs a hole in the wall from when he punched it earlier
his headphones are about to burst from how loud the music is
no one can hear his sobs or see how messy his hair is from running his hands through it, thinking and thinking.
hes replaying there conversation in his head, thinking,
Hell never get her back

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