Just like a woman

She was just a girl. What was her to do? He said “hello”. The world stopped, yet all he said was “hello”. But she was smart, she could make up entire conversations from that “hello”. All he meant to say, all he may have wanted to say. He gave it all away, she gave it all away.

She was just a girl. There was nothing left to do: he was perfect… just perfect. She kept contemplating the impossibilities, but he kept saying “hello”. There was no end to this, she thought. She was just a girl, she had no idea what forever could take.

She was just a girl. She said “hi” back, and then goodbye, like a suicide note. She was a timebomb, and he kept it ticking… ticking. He did nothing, but he kept it ticking. He saved that little girl everyday, and he had no idea. She let him be her savior, and she had no idea.

She was just a girl. And like a girl she was breaking. Everyday, a new crack visible, a new world to glue together. Oblivious as he was, he put it all together and then he broke it all apart. He said “hello”. She said “hello”. Oblivious as he was, he only meant to say “hello”.

She was just a girl. She didn’t mean to keep the record playing, but she didn’t know how to press “STOP”. She didn’t have it in her, because goodbyes killed her. That train had to be stopped, but she didn’t had it in her. His ghost was too addictive a lover to leave.

She was just a girl. And he seemed to fit just right in that puzzle that was her mind. He was always roamig around, just existing. And he fitted, he always did. Everything fit together, except it didn’t… not really. There was always going to be a wall, and she had never been much of a climber. Little girl, she had always stayed home.

She was just a girl. That giant wall would crumble down if only she was not a little girl. What was her to do? The wall seemed invisible at times, the two worlds sharing smoothly. She ached just like a woman and yet she broke…

She was just a girl. And she refused to say goodbye. She kept him there, on her bedside, under her pillow. And he had taken her spirit as a souvenir. They occasionally shared a word or two, an afternoon, yet he refused to give it back to her. Everytime she gazed at his eyes, it was only to take a fall. She was a fool, just a little girl.


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