John Wofford, Rusk

A year passed by; we met again. I thought we both wanted to be more than friends, and at that dance was when my lips first kissed you.

A few months later I said “I love you.” And you said “I love you, too.” And then, a week later, you had found someone new.

You said you just wanted to be friends. I thought that I would be okay in the end, but then, I called you pretty on a live stream. Your new guy got mad, and here’s the thing you said to me. “He doesn’t have to worry about you.”

The wall I had built around my heart, with those words, was torn apart. And for the first time, I feel the pain brought on by you. Seven years may rebuild my heart, change my skin, give my body a new start, but left still there, will be the memory of You.

6 years, 11 months, 12 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes.