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Kylia stared at the lyrics on her phone screen. The words were contrasted with the soft, melodic tune she had been humming just moments ago. They were a raw, emotional outpouring, a cry for attention and love. And as she read them, a familiar ache settled in her chest.

"I miss my cocoa butter kisses, hope you smile when you listen

Ain't no competition, just competin' for attention

And you like, "I'm not on no games"

Well, baby, I been peepin', and you ain't been the same

Like, who been on your mind? Who got your time?

Who you been vibin' with and why I can't make you mine?

You used to be texting me, checking me, calling me your slime

And now you treat me like my worth less than a dime."

The name Matt was like a whisper in her mind and a ghost haunting her thoughts. Once, he had been the sun around which her world revolved. Now, he was a distant star, a celestial body she could see but not touch.

She remembered the day she had first heard the song. It was a crisp autumn afternoon. The leaves danced in a fiery ballet while the air carried the sweet scent of pumpkin spice. She was curled up on her couch, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, when the melody had drifted in from her neighbor's apartment. The lyrics, raw and vulnerable, had resonated with her in a way she had not expected.

But it was not just the song. It was the memories it evoked. Memories of shared laughter, stolen glances, and a connection that had felt like magic. She remembered how his eyes would light up when he smiled, the warmth of his hand in hers, the sound of his laughter, like music to her ears.

They had been inseparable for what felt like forever. Their bond was forged over late-night study sessions, shared secrets, and countless hours spent simply enjoying each other's company. Kylia had been convinced that their friendship was the foundation for something more, something more complicated. But then, slowly, subtly, things had changed.

It started with the distance. Matt began spending more time with his friends and less time with her. The late-night calls became less frequent, and the texts shorter. And when they did talk, there was a new layer of detachment, a barrier that had never been there before.

Kylia tried to ignore the growing ache in her heart. She told herself it was just a phase, that Matt was busy, stressed, or maybe just needed some space. But deep down, Kylia knew the truth. Something was different, and she did not like it one bit.

The lyrics on her phone screen seemed to confirm her worst fears. Was that how she was coming across? Desperate? Needy? She hated the thought. She wanted to be confident and independent, the kind of girl Matt could not resist. But the truth was, she was falling apart on the inside.

She picked up her phone and dialed Matt's number. It rang twice before going to voicemail. She hung up, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over her. She tried again and again, but there was no answer.

Sighing, she put her phone down and walked to the window. The city lights twinkled below a sea of shimmering stars. She thought about the lyrics again. "If we paint a perfect picture, we can make it last forever." She wanted to believe that, but the reality was far less idyllic.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture a future with Matt. They were happy, in love, surrounded by friends and family. But the image was blurry, indistinct. It felt like trying to focus on a photograph underwater.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw her reflection in the glass. A stranger stared back at her, a girl with tired eyes and a hint of sadness around her lips. She did not recognize the person looking back at her.

It was time for a change. Kylia could not keep living in the past, hoping things would magically revert to how they were. She had to move forward and find herself again.

The next day, Kylia woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. She began concentrating on her well-being, rekindling her interests, and constructing a satisfying and self-reliant lifestyle. She started volunteering at the local animal shelter, took up painting, and joined a writing group.

At first, it was hard. The loneliness was overwhelming, and there were moments when Kylia felt like giving up. But she pushed through, one day at a time. As the weeks turned into months, Kylia began to feel a shift. She was happier, more confident, and more at peace with herself. She was still learning to let go of Matt, but the pain was less sharp, less constant.

One evening, while she was painting in her apartment, her phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, she answered.

"Kylia?" a voice asked.

It was Matt. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Matt?" she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry," Matt finally said. "I messed up."

Kylia's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to be angry, tell him off, and never speak to him again. But the words would not come. Instead, she found herself listening to him, to his explanations, his apologies, his promises.

In the end, she did not say much. She just listened. And as she listened, she realized something important. The girl she was now was not the same girl Matt had fallen in love with. She was better, more independent, more complete.

When he was finished talking, she took a deep breath. "Matt," she said quietly, "I've changed."

There was another pause. "I know," Matt replied.

She could hear the sadness in his voice, which made her feel a pang of sympathy. But she also felt a sense of peace.

"I think we should just be friends," she said.

There was another long pause. Then, finally, Matt said, "Okay."

They talked longer, catching up on each other's lives. When they hung up, Kylia felt a sense of closure. It was not the ending she had imagined, but it was an ending nonetheless.

Looking out the window at the city lights, she felt a sense of hope. The future was uncertain, but it was also full of possibilities. And for the first time in a long time, she was excited to see what it would bring.

"And if we paint a perfect picture, we can make it last forever

And you the only one I want to wear my orange sweater

I told you I am down for the worse or the better

But I keep sticking to you 'cause them four stupid letters

You got me singing love songs

You got me singing love songs

You got me singing love songs

You got me singing love songs."

The song still played in her mind sometimes, a bittersweet reminder of a love that had been and a life that had changed. But now, when she heard it, she did not feel pain. Instead, she felt a sense of gratitude. It had been a painful chapter, but it had also been a catalyst for growth. And when she looked forward, she knew the best was yet to come.

Life after Matt was a journey of self-discovery. Kylia immersed herself in her passions, her apartment becoming a vibrant canvas of her artistic endeavors. Painting, once a therapeutic outlet, evolved into a form of expression, each stroke a testament to her growth. The writing group became her intellectual sanctuary, where she could explore the depths of her thoughts and emotions.

Her volunteer work at the animal shelter brought a new kind of fulfillment. The unconditional love of the animals was a balm to her soul, and the gratitude in the eyes of those who adopted their furry friends was a constant reminder of the power of kindness.

As the seasons changed, so did Kylia. The once timid girl blossomed into a confident, independent woman. Her laughter, once reserved for intimate moments, now echoed through the rooms of her life. She was surrounded by friends who appreciated her for who she was, and her days were filled with purpose and joy.

Yet, the memory of Matt was a ghost that occasionally visited her dreams. Sometimes, it was a bittersweet longing, a nostalgic ache for a love that was no more. Other times, it was a surge of anger, a reminder of the pain he had caused. But these feelings were becoming less frequent, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

One evening, while browsing through an online art gallery, Kylia stumbled upon a painting that took her breath away. It was an abstract piece filled with vibrant colors and bold strokes. The artist's name was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Intrigued, she clicked on the artist's profile.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name: Matt.

The paintings were a stark contrast to the boy she had once known. They were raw, emotional, and deeply personal. It was as if he had poured his soul onto the canvas. Kylia felt a strange mix of emotions. There was admiration for the artist he had become but also a pang of sadness for their lost love.

She decided to reach out to him, not as a friend, but as an admirer of his work. At first, the conversation was awkward, but gradually, they found common ground in their shared love of art. They talked about colors, techniques, and inspirations. It was as if they were strangers discovering a shared passion.

As their conversations deepened, Kylia realized that the boy she had once loved was gone. In his place was a man still finding his way and grappling with his demons. She felt a surge of compassion for him, realizing they were both victims of their circumstances.

Their friendship, if it could be called that, was built on mutual respect and understanding. They shared their lives, dreams, and fears without judgment or expectation. It was a connection born from shared experiences, a bond forged in the crucible of loss.

While Matt and Kylia were talking on the phone one night, he confessed that he had been watching her from afar. He had seen her growth and resilience, and he admired her strength. He told her that she had inspired him to pick up his paintbrush again, to find his voice through art.

Kylia listened quietly, her heart filled with a complex array of emotions. There was gratitude for his words, admiration for his honesty, and a lingering sense of what could have been. But she also knew that the past was just that, the past.

"I'm glad you found your way back to art, Matt," she said softly. "You're a talented artist."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Thank you," Matt replied, his voice filled with emotion. "And thank you for being there for me, even if it's just as a friend."

Kylia smiled. "I'm always here, Matt," she said.

As they hung up the phone, Kylia looked at the city lights. The world was filled with possibilities, and she was ready to embrace them. The chapter with Matt had come to a close, but it was just one chapter in a long and beautiful story. And as she looked forward, she knew the best was yet to come.

The song about cocoa butter kisses was no longer a haunting melody. It was a nostalgic tune, a reminder of a time that had passed. But it was also a testament to her growth, symbolizing the woman she had become. And when she stood there, under the vast expanse of the night sky, she felt a sense of peace and contentment. She was finally home.

"You got me singing love songs

Oh, this the type of song you tip on four fours and pour up song

Yeah, that make you fall in love song

That "Hey, bighead, what you on?" Make you hit me up song

Double cupped, but bae, I'm leaning on you

You been playing games, I'm tryna make you my boo

I don't duck no action, you bust one and I bust two

Pills of satisfaction, I take the red, you pop the blue."