...Me A Girlfriend (She Doesn't Know I Exist)

3 weeks in.

Coloured pencils shorter than my pinky,

paintbrush bristles, soap in your toothpaste,

Lovejoy through the speakers like an alien attack,

but I know every little creature by the look in their eyes.

Jared's been on opened for eleven working days.

Breathe

and for once you forget she exists.

3 weeks behind

and my sketchbook's still a mess,

she says that we've got chemistry

(I think I'm failing chemistry).

I need flashcards to hold a conversation,

She wants a boyfriend,

(Could I be your boyfriend?)

She doesn't even know I'm a boy.

I told her I write poems in my free time.

She asks to see them,

I say I haven't had a lot of free time lately,

so she can't see her name

in all the titles.

Fossil fuels and petrol fumes,

my mum won't let me walk home from school,

but if she did I think I'd text you

even while crossing the road.

(I don't even have her Snap.)

On second thoughts, that might be why

I'm not allowed to walk.

Maybe if I'd been born a boy this wouldn't be so hard,

or maybe it's inherent how untouchable she is,

or maybe I have heart problems

or brain problems

or an ear infection.

(shit, what if she likes girls?)

(wait no, she sees me as a girl.)

(shit, what if she likes boys?)

(wait, that's a bloody good thing.)

(shit, is she aroace?)

(no, she just doesn't like 𝓂𝑒.)

Ego explosion, imploding again.

She says that it seems I don't have many friends.

I wanna be a pretty boy

(I think you're such a gorgeous girl),

Could a girl like you like a boy like me

with no social skills

or football skills

or relationship skills

or drawing skills

or any skills at all?

There's paint on my phone screen

and my notes app is glitching,

I'm neglecting my homework but I don't really care.

There's a fly on my window

who reminds me of me:

always buzzing, never moving,

stuck and never satisfied,

and I bet that he's thinking

of another special fly

he'd love to kiss.

(What the fuck are you on about?)

That last bit got away from me,

so sincerest apologies from Victor himself,

I'm rambling, rambling, on and on

and on and on and on and on and on and on... and on...

I wonder if she ever thinks about me.