Part 2
He looks how I remember him in kindergarten, like he froze in time.
A little boy I have to look down to see. His black hair matches his eyes, though its gelled up and styled in a 2000's fashion.
I smile at him in nostalgia, he smiles back.
I look next to him and see two more boys I liked throughout elementary school.
The first of them, a soccer player--#7. His head too big for his lanky body and his Penguins cap flattens down his chocolate hair. He's only a little taller than the first, but I still remember his hazel eyes. The first and last boy that ever asked me out.
Beside him is a boy I remember fondly; his stupid smile plastered into his freckled, blushing face. His eyes blue in contrast to his bright blonde hair. Still wearing the pajamas he always wore to school--the ones that were too short for him because he hit his growth spurt too fast.
I smile at them both.
The soccer boy nods with a sad smile, and the tall blonde waves his hand happily.
I move onto the next person, and feel my throat close up.
To be continued...
[em]
YOU ARE READING
Blind Poets
PoetryPoetry for those who find both comfort and discomfort in the dark. - Em Instagram: @em.g_4 WARNING This book includes references to sensitive topics such as suicide, depression, struggles with mental health and so on.
