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High Five MAG
“I am
So completely
Over it.”
Yeah.
Right.
They can make fun
Of me.
Argue – and who's to
Say that I
Haven't moved
On?
Apparently – them.
The ball
In the middle
Dangerous, explosive
In the middle
Between
Me
And you.
A gentle pass …
Your eyes
Snatched mine
And you
Made
The pass.
Perfect.
“Don't miss,”
We said to
Me.
I close my
Eyes,
But not
Before looking
At the ball.
Making contact,
Strong shot and
BAM.
To the back.
Of the net.
Score.
“Nice
Goal.”
Your irises are
The same colour
As your pupils
And I look.
“Thanks.”
High five.
My hand still
Feels it,
Hours later.
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This article has 6 comments.
This is really interesting, I love the last paragraph (?) "My hand still/Feels it,/Hours later."
It's like the lind is set in stone or something, it's such an End.
I don't know how to explain it.
I really liked your poem!! And I want to congratulate you on getting it published :)
