"Roses are red Violets are blue I guess And I know how To make your eye blue too."
He looked over at our teacher smugly knowing full and well how shit his poem was. He casually glided by pass snickering boys and girls who were looking at him as if he just had proposed to them with the most sensual and passionate poem ever.
He glanced at me and his devilish smirk turned into a hateful scowl as soon as we made eye contact.
I just raised my eyebrows, insinuating a challenge.
"Mr. Conner certainly thinks it's funny to display his 'lesser' side this afternoon." Our teacher said taking off her glasses, gently rubbing her temples. A sign that shows she has absolutely no hope.
"Is it just me or is all the things you do turn out to be bullshit." I said out loud making sure everyone heard my very valid question. Especially him.
Next thing I heard was a chair scratching the floor and footsteps coming closer to me.
He was holding me up by the shirt making the distance between our faces to a centimeter apart. Mrs. Smith was now full on sighing and rubbing her head. I smirked at him which only fueled him up.
"Why is it an everyday thing for you boys? No matter how many times I send you to the office you continue to argue!" Mrs. Smith said but no one was actually listening to her. They were all too focused on us.
He leaned close to my ear and whispered.
"Leave me alone, faggot."
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YOU ARE READING
3AM Poetry (bxb)
Teen Fiction- - - - - - - - 'You can take my heart as it bleeds but please just don't leave me.' Noah Owens sucks at poetry but cant help but find himself late night reading poems in the silence of night to relieve him of the daily struggles of a gay teenage...
