three weeks went by and she still waited for a text from you; a text that, at the back of her mind, she knew would never come. but she wanted you to reply to her and tell her you were sorry for not realizing earlier that she was the one for you. not the other girl.
and so she sits in the corner of her room, with her phone in her hands, and the screen immensely blinding her tired eyes as she waits for your reply.
a reply that, at the back of her mind, she knew would never come.
you used to be her world, until she became the city and you became the tsunami that destroyed her.
and nothing was ever the same again.
but somehow she already knew that if she dusted her heart for fingerprints, she'd find yours.
but you'd never find hers.