You sit in the corner between
wall and wall with your knees
drawn to your chest, trying
to stifle the tears. You tell
yourself..repeating..It's all
my fault. It's all my fault
You tear a strand of that silken
hair from your scalp.The tears
pour like blood. Your chest
tightens. You feel it in your
lungs. It stabs you till you
gasp for breath. The make-up
melts down your porcelain skin
You're so torn. So broken.
You lean from side to side
hoping the feeling will subside
wishful thinking. the right screams
he till breathes. the left scoffs of
his death and you killed that perfect boy. you can't understand
how he could listen to the mumbling going on behind the
scenes you shake and he can't stand it. you're afraid. you're alone..together. a perfect oxymoron for a perfect dead..dead
boy.You can feel the decay of flesh
and tissue."I miss you." you say to the sky...to the box of memories you cast into the sea."I'll miss you" a perfect ending for the perfect story about the perfect two.
