She was late and this is when I knew that I loved her.
She settled in next to me asking what she had missed.
I whispered to her the most important parts.
Her scent permeated from her and I was in a trance.
If she would have asked me to do something, anything,
I would have done so instantly.
This, what I call love but isn’t, started growing.
There were people in class who argued and commented out of place.
“I hate everyone” and she laughed at my cruel comment.
That’s how I knew I could trust her.
Her skin was white, her hair blonde, and her eyes were so dark.
I wanted to reach out and feel her nose,
To rest my head on her shoulder as she read to me her stories.
What would she do if I reached out to her?
On days she wasn’t there, I was sad.
On days she left without saying goodbye, I was sad.
What would my reaction be when I would no longer see her,
When class would be officially over?
As she stood, she towered over me and I felt like a child.
She was wearing lace and a dress that stunned me.
She was light and I was dark.
I watched her walk away.