You asked me what I would do if I woke up tomorrow but you didn't.
I can picture it all, sitting in chemistry, barely acknowledging the announcements on the intercom until I hear your name. I can tell by the tone of the assistant principal's voice, he doesn't need to say it for me to start breaking down. I look over at my classmates, and they stare at me in disbelief; they all know our history, they know that we were lovers until I told you to leave me alone, to let me get better.
I run. I run through the door and down the hall and to the parking lot where the doors to my brother's truck are locked so I curl up in the back. I didn't realize I was crying until now. I didn't realize how much I missed you until now. I curse at the misleadingly blue sky, screaming my apologies, hoping you hear me, wishing you had known I wanted you back. The guilt is crushing my chest and I remember the feeling of your heartbeat and I remember how warm your hands were and I know that I will never feel that again and I am so, so sorry.