i got off the bus
before him
and god was i glad
that he didn't tie me to that bus seat;
the one with permanent marker
on the fabric;
that i had drawn in third grade.
but then again;
there was a stupid feeling
at the pit of my stomach
that screamed in regret
that he didn't.
and when he got off
at the next stop
where we could see each other clearly
even a street away;
he waved to me.
and i must admit something.
i smiled the whole way home.
YOU ARE READING
shaded wings
Poetryher wings would bloom when the pencil drew shades of black and white and tare into two when her body flew into the camouflage of night her heart was sewn to anyone but her own forgetting to love herself but there's a boy that knows his love for he...
