Every man has that one unforgettable woman that will haunt him until his final day; the girl that got away. Allie detested television, vanilla ice cream, and missionary. She explored the depths of her sexuality; while I discovered the heights of my pain. My muse had a nickname. I called her Devil Girl. I write these words to ease my sorrows. My name is Andrew.
This is our story.
Standing outside the food court
My wobbly knees barely supporting me
Two construction workers approached her
what kind of foolish game was this?
As one reached for her hand
I stormed out of the mall
burning cheeks scorching everything around me
I refuse to share my girl
I refused to play this game
We didn’t speak for days
Ignored her texts, calls, and messages
then I accidentally heard one voicemail
she wept like a baby
I called her, promising to visit…
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