*inspired by the boy across the street during the pandemic who I saw through the window a couple of times*
She fell in love with the boy
whose bedroom faces the hill
empty bottles like trophies
line his overflowing sill.
He fell in love with the girl
visible beyond the curtain
her domain a vibrant jungle
pet plants and books in bundles.
Peering through the darkness
she blushes when she sees his chest
rose-knuckled hands add a trophy
and she wishes she could protest.
3 a.m. and her lights are on low
he wishes she would go to sleep
twinkling lights and candles aglow
tears trickle as she silently weeps.
Lost in a plot to overthrow a throne
she closes her eyes—closes her book
tragedy struck, the hero now under stone
mourning the loss her shoulders shook.
His bedroom faces the sunrise ahead
as does she, a goddess in silken red
head a messy halo of golden curls
his heart and stomach flip and twirl.
From coffee and sun in equal measure
her skin was warm—his gaze did more
peering over the lipstick-stained rim
his shadow hovers, she grins a cheeky grin.
He wishes he knew more than her face
stunning though she is, he wants her name—
wants to be a part of her world, her prince
a veil prevents the fantasy, the beer to blame.
His lights are off, his curtains are drawn
she sends him a present in a whiskey jar
it bobs to him suspended through air
within it, concealed, a token of her care.
The boy starts, to the sound he clumsily went
a letter in a bottle he consumes her words
he composes a note, cocooned in her scent
with her name on his lips he looks to the birds:
HOPE.
YOU ARE READING
Juvenilia ✔/ a Nonfiction Undergraduate University Collection
Non-FictionA collection of poems, essays, seminars, and other miscellaneous papers from my Undergraduate Degree in English Literature with a concentration in Creative Writing and minors in Classical History and Publishing. ju·ve·nil·i·a noun 1. works produced...
