I nearly walked by you in the hallway, then
I turned around, who knows, I maybe forgot
a binder by the lockers, maybe when
I fall apart I want to not be caught.
I’m in a room with you, can hear your voice –
it’s louder than the pretty girls who yell
obscenities at their cool-funny boys.
I speak, but don’t think anyone can tell.
I managed looking at you; to make
this contact (they have said it made the stars
turn inside out) made even molecules break.
I cannot speak. I hide; pretend it’s Mars.
You’re drifting out the doorway – small, okay.
You bump my bag, my life and yours colliding – “hey.”
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.