You asked me what I wanted to do about the project.
“The teacher said you could try and do your half and he’ll grade that,” you said, picking at your nails and flipping your hair around your pale, soft body. Your beautiful bones holding up your beautiful skin, such a marvelous machine.
“Or I could try and finish it before I leave. I still have a week.”
I don’t care, I wanted to say.
Why are you leaving?
Why are you leaving me here, alone?
Don’t you know that I need you?
Can’t you see the longing in my eyes?
I am desperate, and I am in love.
Take me as I am, and stay with me.
