SHE
is laying in bed with the door locked The curtains drawn and the
light's off. The Notebook is in
the DVD player. An empty rub of ice cream is on the floor next to
dozens of crumpled tissues. She's got her music blasting so
loud so no one can hear her sobs her fingertips are smudged with
balck 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 his bed with the door locked The curtains
are drawn and the light's off. Call of Duty 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 blasting so loud so nobody hears his cries.
His hair is a mess from running his hands through it, and he's
replaying their last conversation in his mind thinking she will
never take me back.