She’s lying in bed with sad songs playing in her Ipod, The door is locked n her curtains r drawn, On the TV screen is The Notebook, An empty tub of her favourite ice-cream lies on d floor, Smudged with make-up, she doesn’t care how she looks now.. Her fingertips r strained from wiping her mascara, Her face is occupied with eye liner stained tears.. Their last conversation plays in her head.. She thinks to herself dat she’ll never get him back..
Posted on: Sat, 09 Aug 2014 06:17:18 +0000