you said, and I blushed, my mouth going dry
and my heart flapping around
like a big awkward heron
(can herons fly?)
And I got that quick-pulsed anxious feeling,
that over-caffeinated, under-slept,
the-world-is-being-suspended-by-a-thin-string feeling.
And I smiled frantically, laughed about
throwing myself into traffic.
You laughed too, and told me I've changed-
I act more spastic, more animated than before
"like a cartoon"
I didn't know what you meant, exactly
but I was still trying to regain neural activity
after being clubbed in the head with
"he thought it was cute"
I was trying to untangle the weathered knot of emotion,
figure out what each string meant
why was I so embarrassed?
later on, alone in my room, I realized
why it hurt so much.
It wasn't the embarrassment of
being caught in-love--
"he thought it was cute."
like a puppy or a heart-shaped balloon.
while I've been ripping the flesh off my soul
in vain, searching for non-love,
looking for something to distract me
he probably laughed it off,
chalked it up to the impetuousness of youth
or hormones
or loneliness
and then shrugged and forgot. |
Submission Name: he thought it was cute,
