Your eyelashes curled, your words caught in a slur, your skirt is shorter than my shorts ever were, your tights are stuck and you're running out of luck, but so am I.
I've tried so many times that there was once that I lied and twice that I've almost died for you, you sit there in your bedroom staring up at all of the fake plastic stars on your ceiling, remind you of someone?
We used to write together and you wanted to hear my voice, but I didn't want you to. I loved you so much and I didn't have a choice, so I sang to you and my voice cracked; I was nervous. I was scared and I shouldn't have done that.
I'm getting writers block; I'm running out of ideas.
The papers are all mixed up and after all these years I'm finally giving up on you.
Your freckles were amazing, your pretty brown eyes were like chocolate, and your stupid high-top converse were so cute, but I'm moving on and yeah we use to be best friends, but I haven't seen you in forever so I'm done.
- m.s.
