Radiate

0.3: r e m e m b e r i n g

{c e l e s t e }

My classroom is empty and freezing,

Lifeless, completely soulless

As I walk into the door.

Everyone else is outside,

Talking to their friends and

Crowding up the hallway.

Somehow, I was able to

Pass by without them noticing

That I was ever there to begin with.

(isimplydonotexist)

In these few moments of serenity,

My lungs fill with oxygen,

Not liquid lead.

I can actually exhale

Instead of the air getting trapped.

For the last time today,

As the bell rings and

Students scramble,

I breathe.

The heavy scent of cigarette smoke

Fills my lungs next

As a familiar face

Chooses the seat in front of me.

(hestillhatesmeforwhatidid)

His dark coat reeks of it,

But I know that he doesn't smoke.

(noidon't)

(wearejuststrangerswithmemories)

(thatwasthenthisisnow)

He turns around

And I hold my breath

As more lead seeps into my lungs.

(heverywellcouldhavechanged)

He looks to me,

His dark blue eyes sparkling with

A warm hint of familiarity.

All of a sudden,

I am taken back to

When we burnt in the summer sun

And watched it go down

As warm air welcomed our lungs,

The days in the back of the truck

When we drove as fast as we could

Down back roads and dirt paths

Through the forest,

Things we don't have much of

Here in the city.

His cousin's country house

Flashes through my head.

The raven-haired boy

With the lovely eyes

And his deceased father's

Smoking jacket

Won't leave my head.

(ihaveneverreallyenteredhis)

"Hey," he says simply.

It's supposed to be nonchalant,

Friendly,

But there's a sea of emotion

Waiting to run from his vocal chords

Or maybe leak from his eyes.

That might be why they're so blue.

Though he had the last word,

I know there was so much more

That he wanted to say.

(it'sallinmyhead)

(ihurthim)

(thereisnothingleftbutrubble)

"Hey," I say with a smile.

And he smiles back

For the fraction of a second,

But in my eyes,

It lasts for an eternity

As my heart beats against my ribs,

Pounding and trying to break them

So it can return to him once more.

(itwouldkillhim)

(iamtoomuch)

(iamnotenough)

Then the teacher walks in

And he turns away.

That one flash of smile is

The only thing I can concentrate on

For the rest of class.

That and the scent of smoke.

It lingers on my clothes

When I depart,

And I carry it with me.

I wish it was his love instead.