HIS’S
For the first few minutes, I did not feel anything. I was silent for a bit and those feelings started to build up. The next thing I knew, things were thrown everywhere, glass were scattered on the ground with a broken mirror. I was out of control.
My jaw clenched as well as my fists. I wasn’t angry with her. I was angry with myself. The harder I clenched my fist, the more the blood dripped.
I’m broken inside. I slumped onto the ground with my back blocking the door. I started to cry with my hands in my hair, supporting my head.
I looked towards my phone on the floor and picked it up. The wallpaper of the both of us laughing at each other flashed on the screen.
I’ve lost a precious girl.
It was too late. It was already done.
But I loved her.
No. I still love her.
If only I had turned around. If only.
HER’S
“Please,” I pleaded. I was already crying, begging him to turn around.
He walked away. He walked out the door.
I cried harder, repeating the words “no” and “please”.
I let myself fall onto the ground and held onto my chest. I felt my heart breaking. I felt the pain physically.
I cried louder and hit my chest, wanting the pain to disappear.
A pair of hands wrapped around me with whispers, “Shh, it’s going to be okay,”
It's not going to be okay. It will never be okay.
“It’s over. It’s over.” I found myself saying. I repeated it a few times and cried harder each time I said it.
My brother hugged me tighter.
We are now faded lovers. Pulled apart and torn apart.
