I was young and oblivious.
You had everything I liked and you liked everything I liked.
I considered you my soul mate.
After all, soulmates have a lot in common. Right?
I liked Chris Brown and you sung like him.
I liked poets and you wrote poems.
I liked attention, and you gave me that for a week.
I liked late night messages and you always messaged me past midnight.
I liked distraction and you provided great amount of it.
Oh, my fragile heart fell for you without delay.
I confessed my love.
Poured my heart out to you and all you said was, "You're not my type. You're too young."
I drew dark lines on my waterline and applied pink lip gloss that I borrowed from my friend. "Am I old enough? " My photos said.
I confessed my undying love again and because I looked better with lip gloss, you said "me too".
You kissed me and said I had the prettiest smile in the world and then went on a date with the pretty girl you flirted with on Facebook.
You told me not to worry about her.
You lied to me.
My lip gloss was useless after all.
My friends said, "He's a fuckboy. You can do better. " But I told them to back off.
I loved you.
And you loved me.
Because you said my smile was pretty and nobody has ever said my smile was pretty.
I surprised you at your house.
Dejectedly, you ordered me to go back.
I begged you to let me stay but you just ignored me.
You continued watching twerking videos on YouTube.
I wanted to hold your hand and share my pain with you but you behaved as if I was invisible.
Of course my friends were wrong.
You weren't a fuckboy.
You were just busy and that's okay.
You dumped me over text and said you needed to deal with personal affairs. Six days later you were getting high with the pretty girl from Facebook. Oh darling, what an impeccable way to break up with me. But then again, you were just a fuckboy and I immensely regret wasting my time on you.
Fuck you.
