She
is layin in bed with the door locked,
The curtains are drawn and the lights off,
The notebook is is in the DVD player,
An empty tub of ice cream is on the floor,
next to dozens of crumpled tissues,
Shes got her music blasting,
so loud no one can hear her cyring,
her finger tips aresmudged with black,
from wiping away her running mascara,
she is replaying their last conversation,
thinking i'll never get him back.
He
is sitting on the edge of his bed with the door locked,
The curtains drawn and the lights off,
COD is in the xBox,
The controller laying on the flower,
right beneath the spot where he nearly,
punched the wall in his own frustration,
Hes got the music blasting so loud,
so nobody hears him crying,
his hairs a mess from running his hands through it,
he is replaying their last conversation
Thinking, i'll never get her back.