Bulletproof Love

Chapter Six: Poet of his heart

They treat her like an outcast and make her feel aloof. The euphoria of feeling normal and
fitting in lasted for three heavenly weeks after she read aloud her writing then the bullying started again.

Noah then tries to be friends with her and make her feel less isolated. He tilts his head to the side and looks at her.

"Hey. What's up?" he takes a step too close to her.

"Oh nothing, just sitting at the bottom of the pool, drowning my thoughts out." She shrugs.

"Sounds interesting. Mind if I join ya?" He smirks.

She smiles and then they both remain quiet for a while then he says, "Mind if I ask you something?"

"No not at all. Go ahead."

"What keeps you motivated to write? Especially that you're writing about someone who's... made up."

"Well I just genuinely love it. It's just my getaway place. My escape from reality. I keep hoping that one day my writings will be about someone who also writes about me."

"You sure are a very talented writer from what I've heard." He slowly rubs the back of his head and looks at her.

"Well I wouldn't call myself a writer, a weaver if impeccable phrases with multidimensional perspectives. I'm only a mere fiddler, fumbling and tripping over words."

"You are a writer!!! The best one I knowww!"

"I actually have a paragraph written about this."

"About what?"

"About how I'm NOT a writer."

"I wanna read that!" He demands.

"I have it saved in the notes on my phone. You're lucky."

She gets out her phone then scrolls through her notes till her eyes meet the desired one. She hands her phone over to him and he read out loud:

"They think i'm a writer who weaves magnificent phrases with multidimensional perspectives. But I'm only a mere fiddler, fumbling and tripping over words. The sentences I etch on paper don't leave any marks because they are too doubtful; petrified of what they express. They say i'm a writer but I don't believe them. Because when I read the mind of yet another writer, my heart wrenches with shame to even think I had the capability to form coherent sentences. Their words are incandescent, illuminated art while mine are drunk tattoos quoting an illegible language. Theirs are pure symphonies while mine are broken words in discordance and a toneless melody. But they say I'm a writer, and let's say I believe them... Yet in a world where talent is
equivalent to the number of followers you have and approval is sought through likes and comments that someone put to get attention, how am I sure to be a sufficient writer?
Yet in a world where money can buy words and art is scrap and life is nothing but a fake journey to find yourself but you lose yourself through every contradictory sentence that you spout, how am I sure to be a sufficient human?"

His jaw hangs low and his mouth open.

"Wow...Brooklyn...I've never read anything more true. I swear you are talented! I got goosebumps."

The bus finally reaches the school, interrupting their conversation, so they get off. Each of them heads to their home room before the bell rings.

* * *

After several classes, it was finally lunch
break. She sat where she usually sits. Then, she took out her notebook. She moved her tray away and put it on the side of the table. She buried her gaze in the notebook and started writing.

As people walked past her, they started laughing and chuckling. "Ha! What a nerd!",
"socially awkward" , "Is she even normal?!" ... Such phrases started echoing in her ears as they were pronounced harshly by other students. She tried to keep her temper and ignore their criticism that was burning under her flesh.

Noah looked at her in sympathy because of how horribly she was being treated. A guy crumbled a piece of paper and threw it at her.

It was only a matter of seconds before Noah was clenching his fists in front of the guy. "Don't. Come. Near. Her." He paused between every word and made himself loud and clear.

Everyone was in shock. Even Brooklyn herself. She never thought that anyone would defend her.

After everything calmed down, he sat with her. "Hey are you okay?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks.... For standing up for me like that." She smiled at him showing gratitude.

Soon, the bell rang. Only a few more classes then Brooklyn can run back home, slide under the covers, and sit quietly with her condensed thoughts. She wasn't complaining though because now they had English! Her favorite.
They both walked to class and sat where they usually do. Noah leaned his head to the side and supported it with his hand. He smiled involuntarily as he looked over at Brooklyn and saw her eyes widening and her hands gripping the edges of the table eagerly waiting for professor Hart to walk through the door.
A few moments later, Professor Hart waltzed in and stood in the center of the class.

"I'm smelling some new fresh poetry!!" He said

"It's probably just the air sanitizer,"one kid joked.

"Why don't we ask Brooklyn here if she has anything new for us." Professor Hart ignored the kid's comment and looked at Brook.

"Weeeelllll, I guess I have something" her cheeks turned rosy red.

"Bless my ears"

She clears her throat then starts,
"A raven gloss
Flavored with loss
Oh sweet and bitter in a breath
What's better than death?
What whispers from the lying lips?
"The stars" they murmur
A web woven across the satin sky
From out waste places echoes a cry And hums from the dying sun;
All a phantom, nature stands
With all the melodies in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own
A hollow form with empty hands
And shall I take a thing so blind?
A thing that twists the sane mind
Well who cares?
To sleep I give my powers away
Make amends with the dark
With my heart I surrender and say
Oh heart, what is it that makes you beat so slow While the clock beats out the little lives of men I sometimes feel it's a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words and ink half reveal
And half conceal the sorrow within...
Hush it's 12:48 I cant let my demons hear"

Everyone looks at her in utter silence. It was beautiful and it left them all in awe. Professor Hart smiled proudly of his student who just proved she's worthy of being acknowledged.