They had the same kind of dynamites backthen,
She held hers,tight
And so did he, but not for long till he blazed his fuze
“None of your fault” she said, “i let you sit beside me backthen”.
“Sorry, you will be okay” he left her with schorches fulfill her body
“I will” she said, quietly.
“Promise me” he said, “you will not fall in love with the wrong person, again”
“I promise” she replied.
He seem so wrath, he never talked to her after the day she slighted the promise.
She loved him.
We’re just like a guitar without it’s strings, nothing really hook us.
And strangely, still euphonical, like a lover moaning to each other, pleasant.
Is it too early, or even too late?
My mind flies into the day we found our secret tower, somewhere, on the seashore.
I’m still awake, wide awake, and sadly almost totally sober.