"She's pretty
She's pretty
She's pretty"
Is written across his paper,
across his desk,
across his lips.
His hand on mine 'accidentally'
and his lame excuse of an apology.
I work on my paper, he works on his.
His pen clicks as he taps it against the desk.
His hair falling over his forehead just like always,
drawing my darn attention when I should be focusing.
His voice is low,
not deep,
low.
I quite like it,
once again can't focus when I hear it.
Why does he sit there?
Why next to me?
There was an open seat a bit away,
why right where it would ruin me?
Why right where he could throw everything at me,
every murmur,
whisper,
mumble,
touch.
Every little thing to get me to fall into that deep feeling,
that I so desperately don't need.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry
PoetryCrushes, Heartbreak, Depression, Sad Truths I make it all! Here is my poetry! TW: Heartbreak and hurt, maybe a small amount of swearing but I don't know yet. #1 in Sadtruth - 10/5/23 #13 in Poetry - 11/11/23 #26 in Quotes - 11/14/23 #55 in...
