Cherry cola stains her lips.
Blood stained his hands.
She gets to laugh.
His voice is just an echo in the air.
She gets to learn.
He only learned so much.
She has dark hair.
His hair was light.
She is a demon.
He was an angel.
She walks in tight jeans.
He walked in a pinstripe suit.
She likes books.
He liked video games.
She feels guilty.
He felt everything.
She hates that his words, actions, thoughts, belongings, and voice are in past tense.
He hates nothing.
She was going to be in that bed.
He was going to be safe.
It’s not her fault.
It’s not his fault.
He was religious.
She had strayed from God.
He kept a Bible in his pocket.
She keeps hate on her lips.
He was twisted and dark.
She was pastel and calm.
Their roles have reverse
She watched herself become the villain of her own story.
He coughed up blood.
I wonder if he woke up before he left?
Do you think he suffered?
That he watched the crimson liquid escape his own lips?
She was told he felt nothing.
She went to the scene.
Blood stained the sheets.
Bile ran up her throat.
She clutched her gut.
She has blue eyes.
He did too.
She gets to grow old.
And he had to die young.