What about those Promises of yours to never leave me? she asked, stammering too much this time. His cruel smirk was as gut-wrenching as his words— Promises are meant to be broken, sweetheart.

The way your curious eyes were chasing mine when I stood in front of you, I knew I had known these eyes before.

I threw myself so far in your depth that it took me a month to come out and notice I was actually sitting in my room. Nowhere else. Not with you.

And they can’t understand, what hurts more— Missing the other person, or pretending not to.