"The warmth of her eyes,
The song in her heart,
Something about her,
Tears me apart.
She's so inviting,
Yet her soul is cold,
But still somehow,
I see her heart as gold."
-Ryder
As I read the words that had fallen out of the library book with the paper they were written on, I couldn't help but wonder who this "Ryder" person was.
"Carly, do you know of anyone at this school named Ryder?" I asked my friend.
"I have no idea. Maybe he's new." She offered while she set up her laptop.
"This book hasn't been touched in months according to Ms. Carlisle." I told her, examining the writing on the paper.
"Why do you ask, Phoenix?" She peered over the top of her computer.
"Well, this fell out of my book." I told her, handing the small, crisp, white paper to her.
She read it and paused for a moment before speaking.
"Maybe this is old. Who knows, maybe this Ryder guy doesn't go here anymore." She handed the paper back and began to type her paper.
"Carly, this is dated, look." I handed it back, pointing to the small numbers on the bottom of the paper.
"May 7th, 2014... This is very recent. Maybe he is one of your writing classes or maybe he's not in any of your classes."
"Thanks, Carly. That's so helpful." I made the sarcasm in my voice as clear as a glass of filtered water.
"Why do you even care, anyway?" She asked.
"The words are beautiful. Did you even read them?"
"I did and I didn't think they were all that great."
"Maybe he just started, but I thought they were beautiful."
"Maybe Ryder is a lesbian." Carly teased.
"Lesbians don't write poetry like that."
"Do you even know any lesbians?" Carly laughed.
"Well, no."
"Exactly. You don't know who could write what."
After about two hours of uninterrupted studying, Carly and I packed our stuff up and headed back to our dorm room.
"What do you think Ryder's poem meant? It seems a little bit contradictory of itself."
"Maybe he or she meant that they were torn between whether or not they should let themselves love the girl in the poem."
"That's kind of typical, but kind of beautiful."
"Seriously Phoenix, read Shakespeare. You'll change your mind."
"Fine." I whined.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day before class, I reread the poem. I thought about it for several minutes before walking into the classroom.
"Miss Hyland, you're two minutes late." Ms. Glineki told me.
"Sorry Miss Glineki, it won't happen again."
"If it does you will not be permitted into the classroom."
"Yes, ma'am." I replied before taking my seat.
