Squished Heart

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I sat near the glass window, staring at your front door. It was open, but not to me. Not anymore. A tear trickled down my face when I thought about something we had that is left as a memory. "Get over it" they say, but how does one get over their first love. I know I'm young, but being a minor doesn't prevent me from loving too fast.

My pale buttoned nose is red, my eyelashes are drenched in tears of pity and heartbreak. You broke my already shattered heart into eighths of emotions. I ask myself every day if I fell too fast. It doesn't matter if I did, what matters is that I did. I can't take it back, I can't forget what we had—if we had anything at all. Your presence brightened up a room, your love barged its way into my failing heart.

The truth is, I can't forget you because part of me doesn't want to. Part of me wants to jump for joy knowing that someone once noticed me. The other part of me wants to scream at the apex of a mountain in agony. I'm not physically or mentally hurt. I'm broken. The worst part is, I can't be fixed. You can shatter a vase and stick the pieces back together, but the cracks will always remain. I'll always remember you. Always and forever. In my rose garden of memories, you will always be the thorn that tore my heart away.

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