With poetry, one creates a scene, a plot, characters, and an entire story in a minimal amount of space. Poetry is the most efficient art because there’s no hiding with poetry. There are no guitar solos, no meanings of different shades of blue, and no lighting scenarios. Only the author and their words. Only print.
My hand was going over the spines of different works as I read their titles. I was aimlessly searching for something that I did not know how to find. I didn’t even know what it was I was searching for, only that my hand was leading the way. And it did for a short while until it came in contact with another hand. A beautiful hand. A hand of elegance and grace. A slender hand belonging to a woman of perfection.
I glanced up to apologize and came into contact with the most marvelous eyes I had ever seen. Emerald eyes that sparkled without the sun. I was looking into the eyes of beauty, and I do believe I almost fainted. Almost. I caught myself though, and I managed to give out a cool response although my body was in flames.
“My apologies, I didn’t—” It was only after I began speaking that I recognized whose eyes those were. They belonged to Miss Beaumont. I hadn’t noticed that it was her, and now I was quite embarrassed. However, her cheeks flushed with the red of a rose, and her eyes dashed away. “Good morning, Miss Beaumont.”
“Good morning, Christopher,” she softly hummed, nearly songlike.
Now that I couldn’t look into her eyes, I diverted my gaze to her lips. My efforts to look away were futile because I was entranced. I had zero control over my body, my thoughts. I could only gaze at her lips longingly, desperately, hungrily. My only desire was to reach out and kiss her, to take her into my arms at that moment, but I managed to restrain myself. I didn’t know how, but I fought back every urge I had.
“And how are you on this fine morning?” Chris, seriously? That’s what I can say?
“Fine,” she shyly said, backing away. “I really must be going, I have to set up for my first hour. Have a nice day, Christopher.” She almost ran away from me, and my knees almost buckled. She feels the need to run away from me. Pain, severe pain, shot into my very soul. Or what was left of my very soul.
“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” I told myself. “She has to stay with me on Tuesday.” My smile was near childlike. Hell, it was childlike. I felt like I’d just seen my first crush ever as warmth swept over my body. Butterflies were in my stomach, and my throat seemed to close. It made it hard to talk, but I managed to get around all that. I felt relieved that I had even survived such an encounter, even though I had no clue why. I was anxious for my next encounter. Nervous, too.
“Hello, handsome,” came from behind me, and I turned to see who it was. Standing in front of me was Heather Marks.
“Heather,” I murmured.
“What? Not excited to see me?” Heather Marks was, by far, the most stunning eighteen-year-old I had ever seen in my life. She had long and flowing charcoal-black hair that naturally curled at the bottom. Her ocean-blue eyes could pierce any man’s soul. With an hourglass figure, she had long legs that would knock out anyone. Honestly, she probably could turn any girl lesbian—that was how stunning she was. Unfortunately, her personality went perfectly with her looks; she’s a bitch.
“You read me like a book.” I smirked.
“You know I prefer magazines. Anyway, why so flustered?”
I must’ve still been blushing from my encounter with Miss Beaumont. I just hoped that Heather hadn’t caught me with her. She might have been a bitch, but Heather was extremely intelligent, which makes her dangerous. Combine looks, intelligence, and mercilessness and you get Heather.
“You’re not high, are you? Or is it because I’m talking to you?” She gave me a smile that matched my own. Damn, she’s good.
“Excuse me, Heather, but it’s harder to talk to you in
My hand was going over the spines of different works as I read their titles. I was aimlessly searching for something that I did not know how to find. I didn’t even know what it was I was searching for, only that my hand was leading the way. And it did for a short while until it came in contact with another hand. A beautiful hand. A hand of elegance and grace. A slender hand belonging to a woman of perfection.
I glanced up to apologize and came into contact with the most marvelous eyes I had ever seen. Emerald eyes that sparkled without the sun. I was looking into the eyes of beauty, and I do believe I almost fainted. Almost. I caught myself though, and I managed to give out a cool response although my body was in flames.
“My apologies, I didn’t—” It was only after I began speaking that I recognized whose eyes those were. They belonged to Miss Beaumont. I hadn’t noticed that it was her, and now I was quite embarrassed. However, her cheeks flushed with the red of a rose, and her eyes dashed away. “Good morning, Miss Beaumont.”
“Good morning, Christopher,” she softly hummed, nearly songlike.
Now that I couldn’t look into her eyes, I diverted my gaze to her lips. My efforts to look away were futile because I was entranced. I had zero control over my body, my thoughts. I could only gaze at her lips longingly, desperately, hungrily. My only desire was to reach out and kiss her, to take her into my arms at that moment, but I managed to restrain myself. I didn’t know how, but I fought back every urge I had.
“And how are you on this fine morning?” Chris, seriously? That’s what I can say?
“Fine,” she shyly said, backing away. “I really must be going, I have to set up for my first hour. Have a nice day, Christopher.” She almost ran away from me, and my knees almost buckled. She feels the need to run away from me. Pain, severe pain, shot into my very soul. Or what was left of my very soul.
“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” I told myself. “She has to stay with me on Tuesday.” My smile was near childlike. Hell, it was childlike. I felt like I’d just seen my first crush ever as warmth swept over my body. Butterflies were in my stomach, and my throat seemed to close. It made it hard to talk, but I managed to get around all that. I felt relieved that I had even survived such an encounter, even though I had no clue why. I was anxious for my next encounter. Nervous, too.
“Hello, handsome,” came from behind me, and I turned to see who it was. Standing in front of me was Heather Marks.
“Heather,” I murmured.
“What? Not excited to see me?” Heather Marks was, by far, the most stunning eighteen-year-old I had ever seen in my life. She had long and flowing charcoal-black hair that naturally curled at the bottom. Her ocean-blue eyes could pierce any man’s soul. With an hourglass figure, she had long legs that would knock out anyone. Honestly, she probably could turn any girl lesbian—that was how stunning she was. Unfortunately, her personality went perfectly with her looks; she’s a bitch.
“You read me like a book.” I smirked.
“You know I prefer magazines. Anyway, why so flustered?”
I must’ve still been blushing from my encounter with Miss Beaumont. I just hoped that Heather hadn’t caught me with her. She might have been a bitch, but Heather was extremely intelligent, which makes her dangerous. Combine looks, intelligence, and mercilessness and you get Heather.
“You’re not high, are you? Or is it because I’m talking to you?” She gave me a smile that matched my own. Damn, she’s good.
“Excuse me, Heather, but it’s harder to talk to you in
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