Unrequited love: the bane of my existence.
It hits me daily,
that boy with the great hair,
who I will tell my friends about,
and remember tomorrow;
but even though we made eye contact,
brown and green with a hint of a smile,
will he remember me?
Probably not.
Same with 'The Cute Guy In The Hat'
as he has been dubbed in my head,
who I saw every weekend
with my chai and ciabatta roll,
sometimes with jam,
sometimes with olives and butter
depending on my mood,
but always $1.50 and blue eyes.
Who knew one could fall in and out so quickly,
everyday holding in its pale hands
a new quickening
of my fickle teenage heart.