I'm the lyrics of that particular song which always plays in your overdosed braincells.I'm the few rows she has written in her suicide note.I'm the face from that photograph that he is always carrying in his empty pocket.I'm all of those awful feelings you had when he last jerked away from holdings hands with you.I'm the sunset. The building you're living in.The broken heart. The one who is always hopelessly smiling. The last bottle of votka you have drank, because your heart was broken.
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ioanafelecan dot com