I left my bike in the middle of the yard, letting the rain get the chain all rusty. I saw you walking her home from the bus, sharing the umbrella I left at your house. I took the friendship bracelet I made you, the one with the blue and green threads, and I cut it into tiny, messy pieces with the dull scissors from my desk. I don't really feel like crying anymore, I just feel like a balloon with no air. I stared at the wall for three hours until the sun went behind the trees. I’m not even mad about the sweater, the one you gave her to wear in the hall. I’m just sitting here in my room, waiting for the feeling to go away. Love isn't a bright, happy drawing— it’s just a gray crayon rubbed until it breaks.
great keep up the amazing work
Thanksss
np
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