At the highest floors of our school building, the view was magnificent. The campus was drenched in afternoon sunlight, students hustling by, the 3:00PM bell ringing across the grounds—signalling the end of yet another day.
I heard your footsteps before I saw you.
"Hey," you said. Your voice was quiet, hesitant. Behind you I could see Anne from a distance. She waves and mouths, "goodluck." I wanted to hug her, or smile at her, or wave, or something, but my attention was too focused on you.
"Can we talk?" your discomfort was almost tangible, I almost laugh. On a regular day, maybe I would've laughed.
This was not a regular day.
I simply nodded and we walked. This is it. This is the end.
YOU ARE READING
I Give Up
PoetryThis is the story of how you hurt me. It starts with you, and that girl who broke your heart. When she left, off you went-walking around, trying to figure things out. It starts with me, and that boy who broke mine. When he left, I lost all my color...