She knew that leaving flowers, or sending a latnern out after the service wouldn't fix anything. She knew that she wouldn't come back, that she was dead, and gone long before.
But she did know that she fucked up so bad, because her best friend was dead, and she didn't do anything. She didn't help her, in fact she made it worse.
And hated herself for it, because there was no one she ever missed more then her best friend. Reading her tombstone made her cry; "Here lies May Clusdale, an angle who was too broken to fix."
And she missed May so much; she missed her more then her dead mom or dad.
She fucking missed her so much, that three months later there was a grave placed next to May's.
"Here lies Amber Tible, a best friend who failed at saving an angel."
And
Everyone
Fucking
Knew
It
Was
All
A
Mess.
YOU ARE READING
You
Poetryshe didnt know that one night and you would send her whole world crashing down. *TRIGGERS*
