There’s a girl that sits in the corner of my urban geography class.
I really want to talk to her because she seems like the type of girl that’d I like to know.
But I’m too afraid, afraid to even start a nice small dialogue between us.
She sits there every Tuesday morning looking down on a book of melancholy love.
She seems like the type of girl I can totally understand.
There seems to be a connection between us without anything to show for it.
She sits there every Thursday morning fiddling her red colored hair with her slender finger.
Nobody seems to notice this presence in the corner of the class except for me.
Her melancholy love and her red colored hair, seems to get me at every turn.
Just a simple “hello” would be enough to make a difference between us.
She seems like the type of girl where I can explore the urban geography with.
Climb the countless flights of stairs of the towering skyscrapers, wander the darkened alleys of the city and when we show the teacher what we found, we would get like a B- or something.
I’m too afraid to talk to her…
Why am I so afraid?
I leave her alone.
Maybe she was always s fantastical being in the figment of my imagination.
Her red colored hair and melancholy love
rest in the corner undisturbed.