Today I almost talked to you.
Almost.
Right when I got that thirty seconds of courage, I missed my oppurtunity.
You left the classroom, and in your pierced ears.
Headphones.
Why should I be suprised? You listen to music all the time.
But I want to be listening to music with you.
I want to be able to experience the music that draws your attention, just like you draw my attention.
I want to know the chords, the notes, the melody, and how they all some how sort of fit into the kind of music you listen to.
Because I bet your music describes you.
And I want to know everything about you.
Instead, I know nothing.
Except that you love ribbons.
And that you love sweaters.
And that you're pretty.
No beautiful.
But I crave to know more about you because I be your mind is prettier than what you look like. So your mind, your soul is probably fucking gorgeous.
YOU ARE READING
Ribbons
PoetryA story about a broken girl who wears ribbons and a boy who tries to pick up the pieces
