Blue-Eyed Boy


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by Riley O’Connell ’15

to the blue-eyed boy
with a silent smile and razor wit,

they’re just
flashes.
moments.
tiny fragments and insignificant details.
the whisper-drag of your fingertips across my palm,
the constancy with which you then ran them
through your hair,
the way you pucker your lips
when you’re confused,
(and you’re always confused).
your untucked shirt and
that damned rain slicker,
the one you wear constantly,
because it makes you feel
somehow more responsible,
in case it rains.
it hasn’t yet, but I’m sure
when it does,
you’ll be ready.

you make my heart beat red out my cheeks.

I often wonder if red
is your favorite color,
if you know it is mine;
if you like honey with your tea,
or if you even like tea.

I count the syllables of your laughter and
wait for the line breaks in between your breaths.
you see, I am a writer,
but you are a poem,
and thoughts of you slosh like ink
inside my head,
so everything reminds me of you,
I look at you,
and I watch the way
your constellation eyes flicker
as your gears turn,
inky lashes carving love letters
into cheekbones,
and I won’t say it, but
I still wonder if you ever think about
me.
and maybe this is love
and maybe it’s not.
I’d accept either option,
really.

sincerely,
the brown-eyed girl
with a bitten-back smile and a sleepless heart

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Blue-Eyed Boy