creative writing concentration
- May 11, 2014
- CleanLaundry
- 3 Comments
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we're sitting around a circular table, in circular silence.
you're late to class, Miss Wrinkled NASA Tshirt With The Sleeves Rolled Up with hair the color of dirty pennies. workshopping poetry, chin lowered and doubled but countered with a defiant freckle scraped nose. eyes hidden behind bangs behind sad sonnets about broken relationships. those eyes might be green, I'm convinced they're green, but you look away every time I try to double check.
look at me! I'm trying to profile you for our next assignment and you're a catch!
but no you turn to the squrriely greasy author of the poem we're workshopping: "this is lovely, this breakup poem puts taylor swift to shame." the class laughs and the guy says "for real? thanks!" and turns to the next commenter, and I'm the only one who catches your smirk, flashing and fading and gone.
your own poem might be about suicide but I can't know for sure, it's hidden behind a limerick about a fucking fox.
I'm onto you, babe.