My Greenlight on the Dock
No need to respond. Just my mind trying to catch its breath.
When I was in 7th grade, you entered my life. Unwillingly, your presence dwelt in my heart. I didn't know it back then. Was it love? I didn't accept it back then. But my emotions gave way.
Oh you were so shy. You still are. You would walk alone and only offer a hesitant smile. But your temperament was unmistakable.
ah, she walks in beauty like the night
of cloudless climes and starry skies.
In those years, I never got to know you. But you never left my mind. On the last day of school in 8th grade as we walked out of the auditorium, as you would soon take your leave into the distant world of high school, I looked for you. I stopped in the middle of the platform, searching for your face among the inundating crowd. You weren't there. I turned and walked away.
As I, myself, entered high school, class work overtook my interest. But as my pen scribes every once in a while, the fire never died. Life went on; you stayed submerged.
However, everything changed in 10th grade. As I sat in my debate class in the 8th hour of the school day, you walked into the room, and re-ignited my heart. My head jerked up. In your pink sweater shirt and blue jeans you looked as radiant as I could ever imagine. You were still so shy. When you volunteer to debate me, my words were lost in your eyes. Those were the days, to look up above the podium at your face with complete freedom and joy. I remember your shaky voice, your nervous smile, and your penetrating eyes.
And those eyes crippled me completely when you asked me to be your stand partner. As we played James Horner's "My Heart Will Go On," your form in the corner of my eye grabbed hold of my dangling heart despite how dissonant your playing sounded. Man, were you bad at the violin.
You should know that I joined the tennis team for you. I didn't care how much I sucked at tennis; watching you in your small frame dominate on the courts was all I desired. Yeah, you were good at tennis.
Before my birthday, someone else tried to take your place. She was like you, but somehow, less magical. We became good friends, and I told her about you. Things ended there.
As the summer arrived, we grew apart. But your image never left my head as I went through my world of h***.
Junior year began. We shared many classes. We had chances to be alone, and we talked. Through the years your experiences mush had shaped you, but to me, you hadn't changed. Your silky hair, simple gait, crescent smile still preserved their beauty from the past. But, like all the times before, I let you go.
You never asked for me, and I knew it wasn't my place to go for you. Nothing beyond friendship exists between us save our history, a chain of excitements and regrets.
You are now a senior, and only time can tell where you will be. You got into MIT, congratulations. I knew you would be. What if you get into Penn? Harvard? Colombia?
Our story is not finished. Where you will be, I will strive to follow.
But now, in complete darkness...
I want to close my eyes, I want to carve your picture onto a Grecian urn, I want to trade your scent for all of Arabia's gold, because you, in all your perfection, deserve ever-lasting love.