I slipped on your old shirt, your smell still lingered. My fingers glided across the wall that once held our bodies upright in an embrace, or held our crumbling figures mid-fight. The only thing these cold, white walls held know were memories and I needed to break free from these walls, but we both knew I was too weak for that. I still sat learning new things, that I knew may be relevant to you. I still listened to those songs you said "reminded you of us". I still cried over the first time you told me everything but mainly I look back in regret. I'd take back what I said.
I know this was all my fault, but I know I can't be sitting in the shadows, waiting for you.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Short StoryAlmost 200 short stories to get your blood pumping, your skin crawling and your mind racing. Nostalgic, interesting, current, real-life experiences in a creative form. *disclaimer: some of these short pieces reference issues such as mental illness...