Punk 57

by Penelope Douglas

We kept writing because we needed each other, because we made the other one’s life better. But even after knowing her for years, it took no time for me to break what we had. We were perfect for each other. Until we met.

“You were the only thing that was real to me,” I tell her.

I didn’t mean to lie, but I meant every kiss.

“I have no life there if you’re not in it. You’re part of everything good I’ve ever done, Ryen. Please.”

I’m done here. I’m going home. I’ll be anything you want, even gone if that’s what you need. I love you.

“You don’t hate me. You love me, and I love you.”

“I want everything about you, Ryen, and I know you want me.”

“But I love the way you lie.”

No one does you better than you. You can’t be replaced. Not everyone will see that, but only you need to.”

“Talk to me,” he whispers. “I need your words.”

We were kids once, and we liked ourselves. We were happy. How did that change?

“A lot of your words are in those lyrics,” he tells me. “We do more than a few things really well together, you know?” “Good and bad.” He stretches his neck up, brushing my lips. “And I want it all.”

But what Misha said was true. Everyone is ugly, aren’t we? Some wear it and some hide it.

They say we’re no good and we’re okay with that, We’re the leaders of the not-coming-backs.