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Nov 2018
I have a buddy who smiles like high noon
It’s around the time before the moon really takes place in the sky
His smile bleeds your heart dry as if he were a homeless man begging for your cash on a street corner
It takes 8 minutes and 20 seconds for the sun to reach the earth
To remember how to give me warmth
But when it’s winter I’m wearing a beanie for a reason
My head is cold
He can extend his arms
And pull me into a hug
Because being wrapped in his arms is warm enough during December months
And when I say his smile is like high noon I mean it like his tongue sticks through his teeth and clouds are covering the sky
I firmly believe that I would be fully blind and not partially if his tongue did not shield me from part of his teeth
His smile makes the sun envious
His innocence cries over drinking orange juice
My buddy is like high noon
There is a fire inside me that wants to tell you why I insist he is not the breathtaking beauty of a sunset
And the truth is
There is too much softness in a sunset
For a boy who wants to fight
And was told by his country that he couldn’t
You don’t see the heartbreak of a 13 at the time year old boy on the news
You just see the announcement
It tastes bittersweet
How he’s the alienated student in these hallways
How many times have you had to sit back while your identity was being debated like you weren’t in the room
I did this morning
And I know he does every day
I used to see scars on the back of this kid’s legs before people were wise enough to treat him
More like a person
And less like a headline
And less like something new in this day and age
I write about him because more often than sometimes, I’m too scared to write about myself
Don’t let me see what I am
I know we’re both thinking it
I am too young to be on a stage
I don’t know where to go to perform this ****
There are no rules in slam poetry
And if I’m going to slam my heart out I better do it the right way
I am that right note to pull on your heartstrings until you bleed from the way I’m playing them
I don’t write poetry like a teenage girl but I like poetry like a feeling
Like a burst of energy
I write poetry like your parents want to have me over for dinner to see if I speak in sonnets regularly
If a rose by any other name would smell twice as sweet why can’t he change his
Why can’t I change mine
If a boy by any other name may respond twice as quickly then why are we not allowed to change them
Why are we the topic of your family’s thanksgiving dinner discussion and why are we the coffee shop poets
Why are we the impossibility of a high school wall
Why am I not ten feet tall when I perform this
Why is it ironic that I’m a poet who can’t snap
I don’t like coffee
I can’t play the piano
But I’ll pull your heartstrings like keys
Pity the plain boy in his glasses
Because that’s who I am
Destined to be a plain boy
And if I have to tie your heartstrings together to end this poem, don’t think I won’t
Written by
ollie  15/M
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