I finished the story,
How can that be true?
I don't want it to end,
What are their futures?
It doesn't feel real,
And I can't believe it is over.
I've spent months connected to these characters,
Thousands of hours thinking about their next moves.
I don't want to leave them,
Not yet, it's too soon,
But yet, the ending has come.
It doesn't feel real.
Every day, I sit and stare
at you talking about what others consider nonsense.
I'd call you a wordsmith,
Staged-like words flowing off the tip of your tongue.
I hunch in the corner of the group,
I came to sit by you everyday,
Listening to your laugh,
Imagining what it'd be like if we were friends,
Knowing you don't feel the same.
my heart was ripped apart in seconds
and it only took a few hours to be stitched up again.
those stitches won't stay
just like I know you won't.
you leave the conversations like deer,
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