Ken
She was in my arms, and now she's not. I keep trying to get her out of my mind, but then I think that maybe if I say her name frequently enough, she'll spawn from my lips and live with me again. She was here. Why did I ever let her go? Why did I let others decide our lives for us? She was mine for a month, and now I'm supposed to live my entire life trying to find a parallel to the warmth she gave me. I tried talking to her. She wouldn't pick up. I tried letting her go. I couldn't. At that moment, I knew why Amara started smoking. Horrible habbit, really. Leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and a horrible aching in your lungs, but it reminded me of her, so I smoked, then smoked some more, then tried to quit, but it felt like a betrayal of her memory, so I stopped trying to quit. I tried dating, but the not-Amara asked me why I had a playlist that was named after a girl, so I broke it off with her. I lost my abs, and a ton of weight, for I wasn't eating nor doing sports. What was the point? She was gone. The Amara I still love so deeply wasn't in my life anymore. I thought about ending it all, but I heard her voice telling me to go see a specialist. I never did, but couldn't bring myself to hurt her memory by killing myself. The idea persisted, yet remained just that: an idea.
YOU ARE READING
All Of You
RomanceA classic love story that has it all. Friends to lovers? Check. Long distance? Check. Disapproval? Check. Pain? Check. Love that has no boundaries? Check.
