WHAT IS THIS.
By: Navi Rai, Grade 9
If more guys would tell girls how they felt, there would be fewer lonely nights spent writing poetry.
She gave me a wan look and walked away. Voila, I must have done something erroneous again. She so inconspicuous, I don’t understand the way this goddess works. Her vibe is so charming and seductive. The way she walks and talks is so simultaneous, like she doesn’t even think. She’s just natural.
The mayhem between us is so vague, so unclear like a thick fog. I don’t understand what I did or what I didn’t do. Its feels like I’ve blathered into a bottomless pool of humiliation when I blather. I probably wouldn’t be able to talk like a normal person to her anyway; I degrade every time I even look at her gorgeous face.
This enchanting girl knows I’m wasting my time; because I don’t even have a chance, and she won’t give me one. She probably thinks I’m pseudo, I can’t act the way I’d like because I’m not the person she wants. I’m not sporty, or a singer, or the poet who sits in the windowsill writing about things that wouldn’t even make sense to me, but I have a loving soul.
I feel like I’m an interim she has me around like if she’s waiting for someone better, which she could find in a heartbeat. Why does she keep someone like me around? Why do I choose to stick around, even when I know she has no desire for me? And irony is all I ever hear from her elegant and beautiful voice. At least she’ll talk to me now. All I want is her to love me, the way I truly do, the way love should be.
