She had been doing the same routine for years.
Each night to a different club. Each time, more make - up and shorter skirts. She was is somebody's bed every night.
She just needed a little bit of love.
One night eventually, she got tired of this routine that made her feel loke a slut just because she felt alone so she decided not to wear make - up, and she put on a hoodie and some jeans.
That night she didn't end up in a bed but in a bench, holding hands, with the only boy, that has ever fallen for her smile
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid Words ➵
PoesíaIn memory of all those who were drowned in their own unsaid words
