Weak Weeks

Irritating alarms,
Running into the new boy in class,
Morning blues turn into red hearts,
Seeing someone biting on the back of his pen
Has never been cuter.

Sufficient motivation to attend class,
A perfectly positioned vacant seat,
Four eyes, a million sparks,
He types, “Coffee?” on a scientific calculator.

Coffee extends to dinner,
He hums my favorite Beatles song,
This Spelling Bee champion also plays basketball,
I have a goose-bumped neck.

We are like two kites, always crossing paths,
Striking unsung chords,
Peeking between book stacks in the library,
Moonwalking arm-in-arm,
Right over a tightrope.

The scientific calculator is blank,
Journals filled with letters never sent,
Tightropes tied around goose-bumped necks,
Glances, hearts and feelings are stolen.

Waiting for stars from different constellations,
To align themselves in our name,
Singing lullabies to put love to sleep,
We’re an incomplete heart on the last page of a notebook.

I lose him once more when he fades from memory,
The last thing we do together is wound and heal,
Hearts on sleeves and covered broken bits,
Eleven times zones away,
He picks new ties while I pick new boys.


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