I look at them and see their happiness And in my mind the comparisons are already being drawn up. Their delight in the late night trysts and flirtatious conversations make my thoughtful drawn out ones seem dimmer, darker and less than their experiences. It hit me. The insignificance of my relationship with him. I observe my friend, Return sweaty and crumpled, Her shirt and skirt inside out. She was holding her pink satin bra in her left hand. She could barely communicate the thrills she had just experienced. How can I compare? The senior boys seem to line up Out the classroom, begging from behind the hallpass, to have them run away and leave the darkness of Mary Shelley, for their arms and lips.
I find that the silence is growing in me Like the idea of insignificance has taken root in my mind And it's fruits are envy Which I cannot leave to rot.