I'm sorry that I'm late, Madame, but
I was in the bathroom reading
The suicide letter of the boy that
Broke his heart 4 years ago.
I remember he bought my icy-pole
On the hottest day of the year
Because I was 10¢ short and
Only in year 7. So small.
He played basketball and won
More games for our school in
Two years than it had won
In twenty.
Everyone always wondered
Why the boy that all the
Girls wanted, never dated
Until the day that they did.
I remember there being a lot
Of yelling and an ambulance
And the only bathroom stall
Roped off with crime tape.
I remember a long, white
Muscled arm dripping
Blood from a plastic stretcher.
The arm which had scored
Countless three-pointers and
Inspired the small male population
Of the school was cold,
Reaching out to me.
I tried to take his hand but
A policeman told me to back
Away. From my hero.
From my icy-pole saviour.