She remained static in bed, like a robot that couldn’t move. She wished she was a robot. She wished she couldn’t feel anything. At least, it wouldn’t hurt so bad when he said he didn’t like her as strongly as she did.
She let out a deep sigh and whispered in the air,
“Why would I stop writing poems about you? It’s all I have. I’ve got nothing else to hold on to. I no longer have you.”
“No. Just…no more poetry.”