Blind Poets

Poem 69: Part 4

Part 4

I can't help but smile when I see her next.
I know her very well today, the only difference is that she's now in love with a 20-year-old man.
She laughs before smiling awkwardly. Her light green eyes hold pain behind them; prior relationships damaged the glint they had at the beginning of 8th grade when I caught feelings.

She flips her hair to the side, the way I liked it. My heart sinks a little to remember that I had pushed the feelings I had for her away due to her protective ex-girlfriend at the time.
I can't say she's any happier now, but it's sweet to see her wrists finally healing from the cuts.

She rolls her eyes and turns her head to the girl a year older next to her.

I feel my face flush in embarrassment as I see her--my first girlfriend. My first relationship. My first kiss.
It's strange seeing her in this state, the way she was the last time I saw her. Hair curled--because she liked the way it looked on me--brown-tinted-red after a mental breakdown. Her deep brown eyes, lustful and dewy. Giving me a dominating look, proving she was older--and she thought little of me.
She crosses her arms and smiles forcefully.
She's not the same now, I think to myself. Now she's depressed, anorexic, goth, black hair, boy-crazy and either constantly drunk or high.

I smile sadly at her and put a hand on her shoulder.

Then I turn to the one I never thought I'd be able to face.

To be continued...

[em]