A String of Sweet Messages

2

dear boy,

you were at the park today and instead of writing poetry as i usually do, i went and plopped myself on the cold, damp bench. you tried not to acknowledge me but i saw you stealing a few glances.

'what?' i finally had asked, mustering up a ton of courage.

'you're the one staring at me.' you had replied and did something very childish, you had stuck your tongue out at me and turned your face away. it was so bizarre for me, i can't even express it.

your scarred wrist faced upwards and your arms rested on the bench. i don't know what had gotten into me but i took my forefinger and traced the lines. you let me do it, you let me trace the little lines.

after about two minutes you said, 'you have scars too, don't you?" even though you weren't looking at me, i silently answered with a nod. you let out a sigh, getting up an leaving me alone on the bench until dusk came.

i was still frozen on the rough wooden bench when your shadow appeared in the dark. you stepped forward into my view slowly as my heart raced. what if it hadn't been you? would i still be here?

your smile shone even in the blackness of the night, maybe it was the stars' lights doing the trick.

anyways, you held a sketchbook in one hand and a pretty pastel yellow bracelet in the other.

you didn't sit on the bench beside me but the foreign objects did. then what you did next made me throw a fit before heading to my so called home. you had snatched my poetry book and ran.

i didn't understand until i decided to flip through your sketch book.

☯❁☯❁☯

- the girl who traced your scars