I gaze into your bruised eyes as they scream the end. I want to witness your last pain while they swallow you; I want you to be the last person who will see me cry. If what they say about tears being only for the weaklings is true, then what are doing today?
We will only suffocate each other’s lungs with our constant worries and hideous jealousies—it will be best if we rest, parted.
The clouds yawn with its thunders and the people start to stroll away from the sidewalk, but we stay still until the first slash of rain hits our heated bodies. A creeping sad smile rise upon our lips as the broken glasses of water pierce our chests.
One day, we will be fine.
WORD COUNT: 128
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