You just left me a note saying your things were packed and that you're leaving later that night.
"Im leaving tonight, all my things are packed".
Two years earlier you glanced at me with those eyes. Those big brown flirty eyes of yours. Those eyes that i fell completely and helplessly in love with. I only took a week for me to know you were the one. The way you held my head when kissing my eyelid made me pretty sure that you felt the same way. And you did. We could lay in bed for a hole day just touching each other. You told me all about your family and how hard it was for you to grow up in an English speaking country when you had skin from another continent. I listened. You told me about bombs crashing down not far from your home and how you sat next to your uncles dead body for 8 hours just crying your heart out. You sometimes cried while telling me awful things. I cried too. Just for feeling your pain. I sat behind you stroking your long hair. Whispering that you are not alone any more.
When you entered a room i fell through the ground several times, my knees just disappeared and I gasped for air. I was in love. So in love with all of you. Sometimes I became sad just for thinking you would leave me. I painted daydreams of you saying you hated me and I was just a cheap fuck for you. I never told you those thoughts. I knew we where more. I knew we where for ever. Two years went by pretty fast and my feelings towards you just grew stronger and I felt powerful and totally happy. Until three weeks ago when I came home from school and saw a little note laying on the kitchen table. First I thought it was some kind of sick joke, I tried calling you but you didn't pick up. Slowly it came to me, this was it. This were you breaking up with me. I became angry, smashing my hand against the wall. Screaming ugly words to the window and my reflection staring back at me. I called you again telling you to go screw yourself, that Im throwing all of your things away, I just screamed until my voice cracked and I fell through the ground once again, but not from butterflies, from ache. My heart broke into a million pieces and I just cried. I cried for hours, just laying on the floor. I sobbed. I tried to stop breathing for a while. Tried to end the suffering. I held my breath for longer than ever before. Then you came home. Found me on the floor with my eyes swollen and my voice broken. You didn't say much. Just padded me on my forehead, saying you where sorry. That you knew you were a coward for writing a note. I begged. I held you refusing to let go, saying that I would kill myself if you left. Calling you a murderer cause you murdered my heart and it will never be alive again. You left me with a dying heart on the floor and now three weeks after you haven't come back. I call you everyday. Don't really want to but I do. I can't not. Sometimes you don't pick up even though I know you see it's me. It's me. The girl with the murdered heart.