please,

just a few months before your fourteenth birthday,

your parents got a messy divorce.

and i guess that ripped you apart,

because you were like thin, delicate paper.

you were so blinded by raw sadness,

you never even saw the grey clouds that swallowed you whole.

or the happiness surrounding you.

you only saw through blurred vision

and could only hear the playlist of

sad songs.

because for you, believer of true love,

skye, you thought it was the end of the world.

you wanted to believe in happy endings,

but the truth slapped you in the face

like iron.

i held you for days while you

were crying into me,

and i'd shoot daggers at my

brother whenever he stormed into

my room to tell me you had to leave.

you were so broken.

but i was there for you.

do you remember?

of course you don't.

you probably would only have

remembered the version where

you met that spiteful bastard,

matthew sayers.

your soulmate.

i should apologise for what i did

to him, but darling, i can't.

he was a fucking weed in the

way of my flower.