She
is laying
in bed witth the door
locked.
The curtains are drawn and
the lights are 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 one can
hear her sobs.
Her fingers are smudged
with black,
from wiping away mascara-stained
tears.
She's replaying their last
conversation,
thinking I'll never get
him
back.
He
is sitting on
the edge of the bed
with the door l ocked.
The curtaims are drawn and
the lights off.
Call of Duty is in t he
Xbox.
The controller is l aying on
the floor,
right beneath the spot
where he neatly,
punched the wall in his own
frustration.
He's got the music
blasting so loud,
so no one can hear
his cries.
His hairs a mess from
running his hands through
it.
And he's replaying their
last conversation,
thinking She'll never
take me
back.
♥♥♥
*nmf
