I seem to have forever to stare at the back of your head.
Words drift through the air, but I don't hear them.
Your soft blond hair lays gently on your shoulders.
My greatest enemy is the bell that makes you leave.
There is so much I would love to tell you.
But when you look at me I cannot speak.
I can only sit here in the back of this crowded classroom.
I can only think the three all powerful words.
I can only stare at the back of your head.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.