Why She's Alone And she's probably wondering, where did he go, If he was too fast and she was too slow. She probably had times when she was alone, When he kissed her head and promised he would come home, But he didn't. And she probably stays up all night, Writing letters to try to just make it alright, And never sends them. Cause it won't matter now, He's got someone else to smile at and she doesn't know how To make him miss her. I know cause I've been there too, But you haven't and you won't have a clue. So before you go try to take her home, Think of where she's been, and why she's alone.

What Is Love, Guys? He's sitting, and I'm sitting, and it's nice that we're sitting together again. He's talking, and I'm smiling, and I wonder if this is how things will mend. He's laughing, and I'm thinking, and I bet he knows we've hit a wall. He's leaving, and I'm wishing, he knew his mistake was leaving at all.

Just Me Again. This is my first story, hope you enjoy it. I counted the vibrations as my phone went off again, but ignored his call like I'd been doing for the past month. Instead, I let the answering machine take it. "Hey, Sarah, It's just me again. I know after everything that happened, I'm probably the last person you want to hear from. But I'm just calling to apologize. For... well, everything. It sure must hurt real bad, that cut on your head. Look, I know the accident was bad, and everything that's happened since then has been hell for you. But it was an accident. Please, just call me back, and I promise - " I threw my phone across the room and watched it hit the wall with a thud. It landed hard on the faded carpet, and I ran over to inspect the dent I'd made in my light purple wall. Seeing as it wasn't all that noticeable, I sat heavily on the floor and picked up my phone. That too, seemed to have suffered little damage. The screen was cracked a bit more since the accident, but other than that, it looked alright. I lay flat on my back and watched the shadows from the trees dance across my ceiling as they moved in the wind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sat up. My head began to pound again and I touched the gash on my forehead tenderly, pulling it away as the familiar sting shot through the wound. The cut wasnt very wide, but it was long. It began in the middle of my forehead and trailed down in a straight line just above my eye. The doctors said i was a fourth of a centimeter away from losing that eye. A chill ran down my spine at the thought and i stood up quickly, trying to leave the whole memory on the floor. The blood rushed back to my head and my vision blurred a bit, so I stood completely still until I'd regained it. The pale darkness of the room gave everything an eerie glow. The neat black and grey bed sheets seemed darker than usual, and the mirror on the wall gave off an unsettling reflection. I walked over to it and gently traced its off white flower design on the outer edge with my finger. I'd gotten the mirror for my eighth birthday, along with the little white clock that sat on my desk in the far corner. My mother had bought it for me. She'd always had the best taste. She'd practically decorated my entire room for me since my last birthday, when she decided that 15 was a good age to let me choose my own little world to create. She bought me paint and new furniture and set boxes down in my room so I could pack away all her decor and put up my own. I didnt change a thing about that room. Instead, we used the paint to give the shed a little color. My mother and I spent all our weekends on that project, talkin about school and her job and getting paint all over every white t shirt we wore. By the time we were finished the entire shed, it had become our own little masterpiece. The outside was a light blue color that reminded me of the ocean and my mother's eyes. The trim was a pale shade of white, and the interior was grey. I remember how warm that day was as we stood back in our enormous white t shirts and dropped our paintbrushes to admire our work of art. "Alright, she said. What's next." By the time we'd run out of paint, we'd painted the dining room blue, my mother's room a gentle rose color, and the picket fence white. So we celebrated with lemonade on the back porch. I remember looking at my mother and admiring her ocean blue eyes and short blonde hair. She looked thinner than usual, somehow. The wrinkles in her face were slightly deeper than I'd remembered. To me, my mother wasn't an old woman. She was lively and independent and healthy. She was also my best friend. But that was all before the accident. Continue?

What Happened To Goodbye He's got fears on the inside I hear those are the worst kind Always keeping her on his mind When it hurts. Tryna keep a steady hand Hold the fort with just one man He's running without a plan Lost for words. But what happened to goodbye? When they all leave him behind He said that's why I build walls love, it's not safe here anymore. Violet hills and patterns Holding lanterns that shatter Fire creeping up ladders To his hiding place. Falling slower with age now Higher than clouds, coming back down He's lost his place in the race how, come it hurts. But what happened to goodbye, She swore this was the last time He says thats why I build walls love, its not safe here anymore. Oh what happened to goodbye? What's worse, the truth or the lie? He said that's why I've stopped trying, I'm not okay here anymore.

She Paints With paint and a brush, she draws a line In her mind of some point further back in time But the colors just blur and drip off the page With shades of red she paints her blank slate with rage On rainy days she paints black and grey Over memories of faces begging her to stay But she's run out of paint for those people to see, She paints in her mind places she'd rather be.