~ a poem ~

Your hair is shorter.
I guess you got it cut this past weekend.
Before your bangs shaded your eyes.
Now I see them as you pass by.

You never look at me in the halls.
You don’t really look at anyone, actually,
but it feels like you’re intentionally not looking at me.

Your stride is quicker now.
I guess your heel no longer aches.
I’m sure coach and the team will be happy when your doc clears you.

I still have that book you like.
I miss when you’d read to me as we laid in the grass near the soccer field.
We never did finish it.

Mom keeps asking about you.
I think she’s holding out hope that we’ll get back together.
I avoid her questions.

Sam is planning this trip to the ocean.
We’re gonna drive out when it gets warm,
pack food and spend the day in the Sun.
I’m gonna bring that snorkel you gave me for my birthday.
I’ll finally get to use it.
Find some awesome shells under the waves.
I would’ve brought you one back, but, you know.

I’m good.
I guess you are too.
You never look at me,
or talk to me anymore,
but you look good,
so, yeah. Yeah.

Maybe later,
when things are better,
we’ll say hi in the halls,
or sign each others’ yearbooks,
or something.
Maybe.
Later.

Categorised as: Poem | Writing

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