as his hand motions at the board

as his hair is swept back because of the vent

as i stare

/mrs dean/

i think dreamily

hearts pepper the corners of my pages

words scrawled on the side

i love you, mr dean

i giggle silently when he smiles

he locks eyes with me and i pretend to take notes

when really,

i’m doodling his face

cursive swirling

mr dean’s name is everywhere on everything

i can’t turn it in like this

and so my eraser rubs the paper

and the graphite fades

and as it does

my heart cracks along with it

for i know

we will never be

(since it’s technically illegal)

and i know he won’t wait for me

(since he technically has a family)

how unfortunate

he’s gay.