100 Years Minus a DayI am strong because I am weak.The last time we fought, she punched me in the chest. Her knuckles broke, but my heart shattered like ice.I've learned that there's more to strength than muscles.I'm beautiful because I know my flaws.There are girls that hide their beauty, and there are girls that flaunt it. She is neither.She wears ripped-up Converse and old clothes. She smudges her mascara and still captures boys' hearts with her playful smile.I'm a lover because I'm a fighter.Her heart beats like a war drum. She plays with war paint and she'll fight for love.Didn't you ever wonder why Cupid's arrow is stained with blood?I'm fearless because I have been afraid.A slender girl with flickering eyes. That's how I imagine her. She pretends to be afraid, but she's fierce like a tiger.When she's with me, I'm not scared of anything.I'm wise because I have been foolish.She's full of wishes, full of promises and careless goodbyes.She's made mistakes
Straightline People always say that they hate goodbyes; they say leaving someone behind is too sad. But I guess I'm different. I love it when people cry over me. She left without saying goodbye. I felt betrayed, in a way. Angry that she'd just leave like that, and angry that I'd just let her go. And hurt: my shoulder blades ached from the oh-so-sweet sensation of being stabbed in the back. At the same time, I felt a fleeting swoop of joy. This is what I wanted: proof that I was living in the past. That I really didn't stand a chance. She'd trace her pretty, torn-up nails across my throat and we'd both agree: "I don't love you anymore." I'd drink her forgotten tears and she'd bite my Cheshire smile. And my wild imaginings would disappear. Maybe I'd fall asleep at
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