Sitting next to you in the bus.
She's on the inside,
you're on the outside.
It reminds her of all those good times.

You're talking to the others,
your back to her.
Laughing with them,
taking selfies,
doing things that she will never,
and could never do.
She thinks about this,
fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist.
'Its not your fault everyone likes you.
Its not your fault no one likes me.
Its not your fault that eventually, you too will abandon me'

Looking out the window,
the first snow of the season covers the ground.
The sight fills her with longing
as memories of last winter 
flood her head.
Each one is like a knife slicing through her heart,
reopening wounds she tried so hard 
to close.

She feels the tears start to build
but she holds them at bay.
After all, there is no point in wishing
for something that's never going to happen,
and there is no point in wasting tears on the past.
There is no point in wasting tears on something that 
is long gone.