i stumble down these halls
dragging my long striped scarf behind me.
(if he could see me, he would say I’m windblown.)
my mind is on him,
a boy i hardly know.
his name is strong and vague enough
for me to build a person on.
like everyday, i walk past
a large group that rests
in this hall every morning.
i feel the eyes of a boy that
once cared for me burn into me as i pass.
another girl's arms are around him.
(it's odd how much i put into this place;
my universe of a few thousand people,
a convince factor, i guess.)
a guitar is quietly and purposely played.
someone is showing their individuality.
as i walk out of earshot,
i focus on that one boy.
i wonder where he might be,
maybe stuck in the midwest, like me,
tired and no longer amused by the faces around him.
his sparse words are ringing in my head
in a voice that i gave him.
i put no time into this, but critque if you want. just fair warning, there is a lot wrong with it, i'm sure.