first term;
julian was a beautiful boy
and back in my school,
beautiful boys were never treated well,
but julian was special,
because his beauty was special.
he dyed his hair every week
and had thick eyebrows and
plump lips and clear skin
and a lean body which
he always covered up in
oversized jumpers to make sure
his small tummy didn't show.
julian could play the piano
and sing out the notes
and he blushed when his
friends spoke to him
and rolled his eyes when his
teachers yelled at him
and whined when he was
ordered to exit the classroom.
he smoked behind the school
and never missed a party
despite never really drinking at any.
he giggled when he was nervous
and bit his lips all the time
or bit his nails whenever he was happy.
his beauty was special
and being around him was enough for people
to fall in love with him or feel the urge
to protect him
and keep him happy.
second term;
julian was still beautiful
and he wore sweatpants under his jumpers
instead of the tight skinny jeans.
he would come to school
without doing a thing to his hair
and without caring about finishing his homework
or saying hello's and good morning's.
he stopped blushing
when his friends spoke to him,
and rolling his eyes
when teachers yelled at him,
until the teachers themselves didn't find the heart
to yell at everyone's favourite quiet, sad boy.
he no longer showed up behind the
school to smoke; apparently he was too busy
in class doing some work for extra credit
with the art teacher.
he rarely came to any parties,
because he had more studying to do,
and when he did,
he would drink like he was drinking away his
sadness, and he would throw himself
on any boy or girl or person
who wanted to take him home.
he frowned a lot and giggled uncomfortably
all the time and rushed out of class as soon
as the bell rang.
his nails became longer and he stopped
biting his lips, but they remained
looking bruised and bitten all the time.
he was beautiful but merely being
around him was enough for people
to sense that something was wrong,
that he needed help,
but no one could quite put their finger
on it, and he brushed everyone away
with the excuse of having too much
homework in art class with the art teacher.
edited by mia & helen & sarah ❤️ thoughts? :0
YOU ARE READING
BOYS
Poetrya collection of poems in which you meet twenty-six boys and read their stories from the perspective of twenty-six other boys. you've met most of them before, in reality, outside these pages. and you've seen some of their faces in the street. and you...
