The Boy

A girl awkward
I stand
books clutched to my chest,
terrified that you will see my longing.
In pain, that you might
tell others
what I do
and say
when we are alone.

You look at me and the boys around you laugh.
I shrink and step back.
My math book held tight, a thick shield against my chest,
a breast plate.
The insignia
she is a girl not a woman,
is a lie.
Ready to turn and flee from the laughter,
your eyes stop me.
They are kind,
and your lips shape my name.
The vowels round in the curve of your tongue,
and I feel your lips all over again
at the small of my back.
I duck my head and pass.
Glancing back over my shoulder at you
your eyes follow,
our secrets still held
so sweetly between us.

I float like air
my feet unable to touch to dull tile floor.