the year has flown by her, it's almost summertime.
a year of heartbreak, deflowering, blankets,
late-night texts. a year of friendships lost and
made and lost once more. a year of scandals
and secrets and bracelets with bells on them.
a year of learning not mathematics and science
but just how to tilt a wrist, when to use teeth.
it's a good thing she'll be a sophomore soon:
there's nothing fresh in her life anymore.
AN: it's sad but true.
i never imangined i'd change so much this schoolyear.