smitten. - A Poetry Collection

offended;

it felt nice knowing the secrets you stashed in the corners of your desk. your notebook containing scribbles of artistry no one else knew except me. the half done sketches which grasped the hidden aesthetic in you brought a hint of pink on your cheeks as you begged me not to look at them. to you they were amateur; childish even, because they looked nothing like the ones people ogle on instagram. to you they looked nothing like the colorful, intricate posters hung in school boards that everyone used to praise. "they look nothing like yours, aria." you said sheepishly.

unbeknownst to you, that was the first time you ever offended me. as i flipped through the pages despite your reluctance, it felt euphoric. and as you dismissed your sketches as childish artwork; you also dismissed the feelings i found for you that evening.