I was too late again.
I'll never be able to text her, call her, touch her, hear her voice.
I fucked up again.
I was too fucking lost in the touch of other girls to see.
To see the torture she was going through.
January 18th, she didn't even make it to her birthday.
She died yesterday, slit that cut a little too deep that night.
I should've been with her, I should've been right next to her.
I should've listened to her.
I should've gave her more time.
I should've tried, I should've cared.
But it's too fucking late, and now all I can seem to feel is the coldness she held. I feel like I've been punched in the face several times. I can't stop crying, and I can't stop regretting. Her mom called my mom today, invited us to her funeral.
I fucked up.
I was too late.
Too damn late.
