Illustration by Courtney Thompson
There are a million others with your name.
There are a million others with soft brown hair.
There are a million other science geeks who wear white T-shirts and hoodies,
And hopefully,
There’s a portion of that million who won’t ask me to be their friend.
—–
Because they don’t want to be my friend.
—–
And I know you don’t really want to be my friend.
—–
So please,
Don’t hold my face when you say it.
Don’t look at me as if you’ll crumble if I turn away.
—–
There are a million others,
Without the heat,
Without the light.
—–
I don’t want to be friends.
You don’t want to be friends.
—–
So please,
Don’t call me again.
Discover more from 12th Street
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.