you tell yourself that you don't love him you will not in any way whatsoever spend a moment more vying for his attention for his affection or whatever you call it the jokes before during after class how you are afraid to touch him because maybe he has some magical power and can feel that you are dying yearning straining for a moment in his limelight to be even a blip in his timeline a moment in a lifetime you wonder if he can feel your love through your glances when he walks next to you time prances a sugar spun web of friendship you never thought a word could sound so cruel and bittersweet like spiderwebs spun through heart strings. you know he won't has said has scraped his foot awkwardly as you poured implied no spewed your affections in a barrage of desperation of losing of love wouldn't it be easier if you were like him? able to see the world the girls who hurt him you in a different light? one that wouldn't keep you up at night? maybe his hurt is a questions you forgot to ask you will do it tomorrow joking before class. the same patterns picking away on your heart strings
sadly. teenage drama. makes good fodder for poetry even as i know that in ten years i'll laugh. and maybe fix my punctuation.