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 Nov 2013 Mariana Seabra
Anna2000
First month, first seat change. we were on opposite sides, no interaction. I relish this, i am not a
BOLD or EXTROVERTED person
some might say I am shy or introverted
now that the time has come, I am not ready to change seats,
to take the chance of sitting closer, forced interaction,
I am nervous,
but am calmed with the thought that chances are, we'll be seated even farther apart,
I was wrong.
our elbows will brush, our knees will touch, our gazes will meet.
I hear the words coming out of the teachers mouth,
but  am stunned into silence ,
my whole being shaken,
our names are called,
our seats given.
To some, this may seem silly, immature, an overreaction.
For them, this may be true, in this situation calm, collected, thinking: this is no big deal.
But with dread curdling in your stomach as you snap to,
stumbling to your seat,
this is an earthquake shaking the earth, a volcano spitting ashes,
a panic attack waiting to happen.
and it pounces.
seated, trying not to squirm, to shake, to ****;
wondering what he's thinking, trying not to stare.
he thinks you don't see,
the glances he shoots the short foot between you,
thinks your engrossed in the teacher, the clock, the pencil
any thing but him.
But your any thing but engrossed, you see every shake, gaze,
fell every brush of the hand.
Finally, this long hour is over, the mixture of excitement and torture has come to an end.
As is to be expected, on your way still in has gaze, you trip, you stumble, your face cherry red;
embarrassed, but thankful,
that he doesn't have a class with an even more abundant chance of embarrassment.
over the day,
you forget the way he gazes,
his shy way
different from the others,
the way he's taller,
in a way that makes you feel safe, flushed, happy, even if their is no chance of him being yours.
But then lunch comes,
you sit down,
ready to devour food that can only fill your stomach, not your soul as much as you wish it would, or
could;
but looking across,
you spot him, watching you,
his gaze surpassing the walls of people, as much as a shy person wouldn't like,
is it coincidence that he found the one gap with a view of me?
is he staring at me?
what to do?
with all this questing running your mind,
your appetite flee's,
and so do I,
to my safe haven within the books.
tomorrow, the nervousness has subsided, its over, your over, its done.
but then, on the way to first period,
our paths cross,
glances exchanged,
blushes made.
You know that this is not over, not done,
the time has come for class to begin.
I've tried to forget, to overcome this nervousness, but I've been defeated,
ground to a fine powder of nerves by a crush.
our knees bounce in anticipation,
our pencils tap,
our feet twitch.
time to share the book,
the dreaded closeness.
Finally it happens,
the brush of the elbows.
we both feel it,
the sparks that glow blue,
the cheeks that grow red.
we have been given a gift, a chance,
to overcome shyness,
to create something wonderful.
but to take that chance, to accept this gift means time, courage.
and every day until then,
this tension will be relieved
and i will be a nervous wreck.
We started on opposite sides,
but fate pulled us together, forced a chance.
now we sit close, still tense, still wired,
but strangely happy,
exhilarated,
alive.
to this day, he still sits in the gap :)
 Nov 2013 Mariana Seabra
R
it was so easy to
sit next to him and
grab a donut. too
easy to say hello and
to pat him on the shoulder.
and yet, i wanted to stay there,
because he makes me feel so
comfortable.

then i left and walked towards your
door. i put a smile on my face and waited patiently
and then bam you came through the front doors and
hit me so hard with that smile of yours. i didn't realize how
much ive missed you. ive missed the way you talk and walk
and smile and just everything you are.... I missed you.

but, when you stopped to talk to some other guy i then
decided that i wasn't worth talking to because all i do is
flirt with you and that isn't okay, you're engaged and you don't
want me, no matter how much it seems like you do...

it wasn't you that made me feel non-worthy, it was that single factor
in the equation of us that kept me slowly backing away from your door,
into the hallway, and then out the door to my next class.

i wanted to talk about how i have a math test next period,
how i am taking two college courses and that one of them is
starting tomorrow! how even though my panic attacks are getting
worse, i havent cut in awhile. how my dad bailed on me once again,
and yet im kind of... okay. how i miss you and what i see in you isn't
just kid love. its real love....

it was so easy to talk to you too, but realizing how much i
needed you in my life compeltely ruined my confidence
and once again, i am back to ignoring you..

oh how i wish i could turn it off.
empty
i am empty
this poem is empty

it looks like poetry
the lines make it so
this is a poem
not prose

back to me
i am sad i am drunk i am alone and i am junk
these words i spit out
they do not equate
no inner meaning, hollow just as i said

i am empty
i try to fill me
i'm leaking
oh look there's a hole
This just isn't fair.
Not right.
I would rather have stayed alone, untouched, locked away,
than this.
Last night I thought a change had come.
I finally felt the heavens open and a beam of light settle on my face, as warming as the sun,
as warming as your hands on me.
But now it's cold.
My body that had gotten into a routine of no emotion, no feeling,
felt alive.
Electricity ran down my veins into my fingertips, my stomach filled with stars and
my lips
burnt.
I've been left scorched.
A burns victim with acid thrown in their face.
I've been scooped out like a pumpkin and left hollow.
I've been resuscitated and the plug pulled again.
Whatever sadness I felt before was
nothing
like this.

I was happy being unhappy.
Read this and then listen to The Smiths - Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me please
I feel just about ready to
burst
with all the love
and kind words
and stroking of the cheek I have ready to offer.
But nobody wants it.
So should I just burst,
splatter all over a canvas and create a sick sort of work of art,
leaving me a let down balloon, a broken shell?
Or should I leave it to decay,
to slowly eat my insides and eventually fester out of my
ears,
nose,
mouth,
into something bitter and spoiled.
Or should I just keep growing
and hope I find you?
Sorry if I sound like I'm whining.
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