It started in the seventh grade.
You were young and I was young and I think
we can both completely agree that we were
pretty dumb and ignorant.
It was your voice I think,
that really brought me in.
Sweeping me up until
I was hopelessly and mindlessly
wrapped around your finger.

It wasn’t like honey.
and it most definitely wasn't like
“Sunshine on a cloudy day.”
It was dark.
Dark like midnight skies twinkling with starlight
and warm cinnamon that stings pale
Lips.
It was quiet like mysterious city alleys littered with
brazen homeless people,
sleeping in fetal positions on the streets.
Like hurt and joy and youth and indifference from the rest of our peers.
But that's the catch.
You were different.

You were beautiful in all your youthful glory and wildness.
Adrenaline spilling from your presence; sweeping everyone up along the way.
Taking them with you.
Smiling and laughing and dark eyes twinkling
Like that of the stars nestled deep in your voice.

And then there was I.
The shy, extremely indifferent, and mostly awkward
middle school girl with too many freckles
and too big glasses that filled her face full.

Your name passed the coven that was my lips
like a sacred secret
too many times to be sane yet,
did mine ever pass yours?

I aspired for you.
Only you.
Yet you never did for me.
Unrequited love, my Dear.
Unrequited love.