Please, Miss (GirlxGirl) ✔️

8 | the poem

My eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance as I gazed out the window inattentively, drowning out the voice of Mrs. Richland as she spoke about French past participles. I was in a state that was beyond bored; now I was more at the stage of falling into a coma, my eyelids heavy as I twirled a piece of hair around my forefinger.

It was Friday, which just seemed to make me more sleepy. The week had been a busy one, and though I was glad that it was the weekend, I wasn't looking forward to doing more studying as everyone else headed off campus. The only upside was spending a couple of hours with Miss Bowen, and though our conversation would likely revolve around square roots and mitosis, it was still something. Being in her presence was good enough.

Once the bell sounded for the end of third period, I made my way to English, a slight buzz in my stomach knowing that I could spend the next hour with Miss Bowen.

"As I said yesterday," she began once everyone had settled down. "Today we'll be writing our own poems, and then presenting them at the end of the lesson. Now remember, poems don't always have to rhyme, and I'd like you to include a sense of ambiguity; let it be down to the reader to interpret what is going on. You have half an hour."

She sat down at her desk and began marking essays. How could someone make marking look so sexy? I sighed at my own thoughts, grabbing some paper and a pen and starting to write. I knew exactly who my poem was going to be about. She was the only thing worth my words, and by God was there so much to say about a woman like her.

I found it impossibly easy to think of things to write about, but it took me three attempts to get it right; I wanted it to be perfect, like she was.

"Okay," Miss Bowen said, standing and walking around to perch against the front of her desk like usual. "That's half an hour over. I want to try and hear as many as I can, so let's start with the front row. Laurie, you can start us off," she said to the girl on my left. Oh god, that meant I was second.

Laurie cleared her throat and began. "I want to be the wind and rain, I want to be the sea. I want to be the sky at night, I just want to be free. I want to be a bird high above, soaring and flying around. I want to be without a care in the world, I want to be in love. I want to be happy and joyous and smiley, I don't want to feel this pain. I want to be careless and reckless and wild, I want to be the wind and rain."

Miss Bowen started clapping and the rest of the class followed suit. "Well done, Laurie. That was great." Her eyes flickered over to me. "Okay Evie, you're up next."

I chewed the insides of my mouth nervously, picking up the paper on my desk and holding it between my two hands. Taking a deep breath, I began. "You speak my name in ways that sound foreign. And god I love listening to it each and every time. I stare at you in awe as your mind is elsewhere, perhaps it is dancing in a daydream, perhaps it is carrying the weight of the world. Maybe I will never know. I burn and ache with the desire for you. I want us to experience the world together, hand in hand. But I know that won't happen, and so my words, weighed down heavy with truth, will fall into an abyss with every other forgotten thing. And in my mind, I will love you, but in yours you will never know." I said the last sentence with my eyes moulded onto hers.

I watched her neck moved slightly as she swallowed, her lips parted, her hand grazing lightly along her jawline. "Um, thank you Evie," Miss Bowen breathed, clapping her hands together as the rest of the class joined in. "Very good."

I left my eyes on her, going over the poem in my head. Was I in love with this woman who I'd barely known a month? How could this have happened? Was it wrong of me to make my feelings known? Perhaps she hadn't realised the poem was about her; perhaps she had. Maybe that was what I wanted.