The Boy

Every day I sit in English class

I do not listen to the teacher

I do not care about Shakespeare

But I am paying attention

Every day he sits across from me

I look in his beautiful brown eyes

I fantasize about running my fingers

Through his black, curly hair

Every day we play a game

He makes faces at me all period

Or he tries to balance a pencil on his lips

If I smile or laugh I lose, I always lose

Every day we eat lunch together

I sit across from him

Hoping for the rare electric moment

When his leg brushes mine

Every day he talks about his girlfriend

I always listen, even though it depresses me

He usually wants my advice

I always tell him the right thing

Every day I walk home past the soccer field

I always look for him

Sometimes he is playing shirtless

He waves at me if he sees me

Every day I sit alone in my room

Thinking about what it would feel like to

Hold his hand, kiss his beautiful lips

To feel loved

One day he is not in class

He moved to New York

Without telling me

Every day I feel like there is a hole in my chest