Choir room.
Cold marble floors and hard plastic chairs.
Blue.

Just like me.

But he’s there,
I can see him, I can feel his
scorn harshly across
the room.

I can smell him, even after filling
my nose with others.

His smell.
I love it but it’s hurting me.

I’m gonna explode in here,
I need to leave.

I take a bathroom break but I come back and his smell is ten times stronger. I wanna cry. I also want him in my arms.

But he doesn’t want me,
and that’s fine,
but that "second chance" always
sits in the back in my pocket,
Whether it’s the second or not.

And that’s probably the worst part.

I love him.