Her hair smelled of cinnamon.
He knew this because he sat behind her in history.
Whenever he got bored of taking notes, he would take a break and steal a sniff.
She was like a drug he had to take a daily dose of.
But today she was absent, nowhere in sight.
He placed his bookbag on her seat hoping she would run in late to find it empty for her beautiful bottom.
He couldn't pay attention to the lesson and found himself dazing off.
Staring out the window. He froze. He noticed a familiar girl sitting under a tree with a guy.
Was that her? Who is that making her laugh? Why was he hiding in her neck?
That should be me.
She was skipping class to spend time with an ass.
So all I had to do was tell her a joke?
YOU ARE READING
Wonder along with my poetry.
PoesíaWhen I want to have my feelings under control I go and write up these little poem like stories. It's the best therapy to write out your emotions. Enjoy my nonsense.
