Some one called me that I haven't talked to in a while.
I was in the middle of crying. The type of cry that you would stop before it got bad. The type of cry that started as a few tears but then turned into a gut wrenching throat closing sob.
And he heard me. All he told me was 'I'm here. I've got you.'
YOU ARE READING
The Golden Girl
PoetryJayla was the perfect golden girl. With every bright girl comes a dark mind. Was Jayla's mind just too dark?
