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It's a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely life
But only for a moment at a time
It's not what fate intended
But it's how it ended up
I hope someday you find someone to love

Leaky eye'd goodbyes should be reserved for those more brave
If it's to be our history, the final memory made
Haunting is the thought that lingers long after you go:
Maybe all this happened so the both of us could grow

I smudged away the tear that had risen to the edge of my eye. Never in my wildest dreams did I fathom that a loser like Harry Koisser would make me cry. But I wasn't crying. Certainly not over Beth. right?

My walls seemed plastered with her name. Her smile was written all over the white paint of my bedroom and her laugh was doodled between the oak floorboards I lay down on. Trying to escape the way she haunted me, I scowled at my ceiling. My stare was only met with her bright blue oceans for eyes, and my vision seemed to sail away across the pale water in her irises. Before I could anchor myself, I could compose my feelings, I was in tears. Cold streams of water dripped off my eyelashes and sank into the floor. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I'd feel her small hand clutch it's delicate fingers around my index. It was vivid, the brush of a fingernail and the feeling of another persons' heat.

From another tear came another ounce of self hate. Was I good enough for her? Or would I spend my days in a perpetual state of want with no outcome, no "have"? I pleaded no. But everything I looked at spat a solemn yes back at me.
I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror at the other wall of my room. My cheeks and eyes were a hot shade of red. The tears gave me an appearance of what resembled sunburn; ugly and not asked for. The brown of my eyes looked hollow. She sucked my soul away, and I fucking loved it.

Something in me continuously said that Beth didn't want my company or to hear my words. However, I still dragged my phone off the desk at my wall and proceeded to call her. Why? Self pity. I didn't know honestly. Craving, probably. The one who hurts me makes me feel better.

"Hello?" I could have screamed as her quiet voice piped up from the other end of the line.
"Hey Beth." I said flat. Hiding the fact that I'd been crying over her was my priority.

We spoke for a while and it came to my attention that Beth sounded hurt. Not just as in a paper cut or a stomach ache. Beth's heart was in her throat as her words came up. After 10 minutes of talking Beth had to leave. She didn't tell me where she had to go to.

I let her important life lead her away from my strangled heart and torn up cheeks.
Keep crying, I thought. It'll give you something to do while she doesn't think about you.

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