SHE
is laying in bed with the door locked.
The curtains are drawn and the lights off
The Notebook is in the DVD player.
An empty tub of ice cream is on the floor
next to dozens of crumpled tissues.
She's got her music blasting so
loud no on can hear her sobs.
Her fingertips are smudgedwith black
fromwiping away masara stained tears.
She'e 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 are drawn and the light is off.
Call of Duty is in the xBox.
The controller is laying on the floor,
right beneath the spot where he nearly
punched the wall in his own frustration.
He's got the music playing so loud,
so nobody hears his cries.
His hairs a mess from running his hands through it.
He's replaying their last conversation,
thinking she'll never take me back.