His arm is shaped around her narrow waist,
reigning her in, and keeping her safe.
Under the pretense of 'just felt like it,'
he keeps her close, wanting to hold her tighter
and have her with him for life.
Yawning and stretching his arm over her would never work.
He knows her too well, she is not the cliche type.
She is so very dear to him, he knows she wouldn't care,
but for some reason, he wants to make the best effort for her.
He never felt like this for another girl.
Before they are lovers, they are best friends,
through thick and thicker. Read more »
Opal—your words are so dearly imprinted among my recollections of you. Glimpses through the peephole of your door, shy giggly stares, the façade of stamina swathing the perplexed little boy inside. I stood outside of your doorway, baseball in hand, hat on head, everyday for the temperate days of autumn. You were the only girl I knew who willingly came outside and challenged me to the end of my days. And beat me. You were the only girl I knew who could strap on a dress or a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt, and still look incredible. It was my secret notion—your beauty—or perhaps it was just a fact that took years to develop.
Opal—we used to play tag by the Oak tree, remember? The gentle leaves would dance down and land onto the lush lawn, swaying to a chronic beat. We’d swing on the tree branches, masking ourselves behind the spectrum of colors. It was a premature season—the leaves changing months before.
Except that hate and love are essentially the same emotion, essentially the same sentiment, and you looked absurd sitting on that shoreline on your own, all alone with Radiohead and with your thoughts pouring into oceanwater. Mixing. Churning and fusing and muddling up and you claimed "now I am the sea" and we all laughed; God, I'm sorry how we laughed. Read more »
It's a lugubrious day,
with the sprinkle of rain.
of young children,
who yearn for the light.
gleams into the gray,
deliberately drenching himself.
The sky is conversing,
with the rest of the world.
The cobwebs are eradicated,
by force of the water,
and the spiders fight their way
In the midst of it all,
a lone child
who tucks away by the sidewalk
cries a little harder,
uniting with the rain.
A blue marble sat on The Table. It rested in a rough indentation, cupped by wood on all sides. To its left, looking at it intently, was a little girl with ringlets clipped out of her face with plastic purple barrettes. She pulled at one of the barrettes, trying to loose its hold on her honey-colored hair. The barrette, unused to such resistance, fell to the floor. Read more »
oh. . .my. . .god. . .!
I swoon as he walks through the door and the smell of his vanilla gum reaches my nostrils. He walks swiftly to the teacher laughing his deep sensuous laugh and talking about some paper he had turned in. I shift my glaze over to the new math teacher. She is young, beautiful, and seems to have caught the eye of the most perfect guy on the planet.
“Patty. . . .Patty?!” My best friend snorts and rolls her eyes for the fifth time today and for the same reason. I could almost feel drool rolling out of my mouth. Read more »
(I wrote this about a year ago)
Sitting quietly beside you
Whose breath drifts slowly and sweetly out of his body
Who holds you in his arms, whispering the sweetest things in your ear
Who onces said he loved you
Who said he never wanted to hurt you
Who charmed you with his honest smile
That boy. . .
Is a lie
Marshal and Lucy
By Paul Detzer
Hartford High School, Grade 9
Mamma’s pretty strict, but she’s a great mom and I love her so much. She lets me and my brother Marshal play a lot of the time when she’s home, and when she’s at work she expects us to do the laundry but after that we can do whatever we want; but she says "Stay out of trouble, ya' hear?."
She leaves for work at the factory early in the morning, before I’m even up. Sometimes I wake early to say goodbye because sometimes she doesn’t get home until eight at night, my bed time. But normally she gets home at five, and she can fix us dinner and read us a story and clean the house a little. Marshal gets to stay up until 10, and if I try I can put my ears to the wall between my room and the living room and hear them talking. Mamma says when I’m thirteen, too, I can stay up with her and Marshal and be in their conversation. But I’m only nine, so that’s really far away. Read more »
I’m walking down the dusty road. I don’t to. I don’t want to see the little yellow house that I know is a few steps ahead. Just around that corner...
I don’t want to see the two big dogs I love so much running up to me. Don’t want to have to tell Toby “Go home” when he follows me up the hill. Don’t want to watch Molly sitting on her paws in the driveway, under the basketball hoop. I don’t want to be reminded of the boy I once knew, the basketball loving blonde who always wore a smile. I don’t want to think of the person he became, with the SkullCandy and the gray sweatshirts and the apathy.
But there it is...the little yellow house.
Water balloons in July, running around the house right there...
The dogs are inside; I don’t have to pretend to smile.
The horseshoe mound by the tree, yellow plastic U’s scattered across the lawn...
The house is almost behind me now, but it still watches as I bite my lip and shuffle faster. Read more »
I wrote a poem one day, about a boy and a girl.
And in that poem there was:
and even some Love.
But none of it was real.
It was all fake like the words which impelled her heart,
Like the mean girls who tread through the halls everyday,
Like the lies he told.
Can you tell me the truth now?
Please, I need someone to save me,
Save me from this
And all this Death.
Because I can never tell the difference between the truth,
Or the lies.
And what are you really afraid of?
Or the truth?
Stabbing with words,
The girl could not stand what had to be heard.
She searched for a dictionary in her head,
To find out what he ment by everything he said.
She loved him,
He hated her,
The tears in her eyes,
Were sure to disern,
she wept by the fireside,
wishing to fall,
into the flames,
to destroy all,
all of herself,
including her heart,
her heart she wished was his,
a heart that was torn.
la imagen de él es dulce a mis sentidos.
pero, él es sólo una imagen,
una foto en mi mente.
él es un sueño en la obscuridad,
pero él está en ninguna parte que yo puedo ver.
y yo sé que le amo.
A little extra blush.
Something more beautiful
To Be Noticed By You..
Today I was walking down mainstreet, when all of a sudden,
I notice a boy folding himself into a tidy heap.
I stop, worried that he might need help-
but as I stand contemplating how I could help to unfold him,
he untwists himself and ends standing on his hands.
My jaw drops.
He starts spinning around,
and begins dancing with his legs. he flips over a few times.
Back on his feet, he picks a leg up and points it high in the air,
he sees me watching him and smiles
I'm terrified. I wave
and realize that was an idiotic thing to do. Read more »
I now see that
The Boy doesn’t need or want any help
Learning to live
He doesn’t deserve the title
“The Boy who never truly lived”
He’s outgrown it
He has learned to live alone
He does enjoy the company of his friends
But he enjoys his solitude more
Someday I realize that we will have to part ways
Our paths have crossed for a while
But they will someday go different ways
We will always be friends
And if we ever want to talk or see each other again
We can stray from our paths for a while
And enjoy the fields or forests in between.
Shadow Girl has left a few days ago
She’s going on an adventure in the woods
She’ll be gone for a long time
And I am going to miss her
I went over to the boy’s cave after I heard that
To see what his views on the subject were
He’s leaving too
But for a different place
He’s going with another guy
They are going on an adventure to the mountains
They are going to climb to the top
And stay there
Almost as long as Shadow Girl will be gone
Two of my good friends will be going
At least my poet friend will be around
And so will the musician
He’s asked me to go out into the sun with him
And I said yes
Oh how I love the musician so
He’s about my age
A little bit older
But only two weeks older
He comes over so much and we go out
Sometimes we just sit and talk
Other times we watch birds
Other times we walk and
Sometimes we even do stupid things
Stupid things are fun to do
They make me laugh
They make him laugh Read more »
I go to his cave more
Once every couple of days
I try to forget about him other times
And I also try to bring up Shadow Girl
She truly loves him
I used to
Being in my tree for so long has gotten to me
I can’t think of him the same way I used to
I don’t think I can love him as much
Then I see his face in the cave
Smiling bright and beaming
I did make a promise to myself though
We will only be friends
I can’t betray Shadow Girl
On top of that
I’ve met an Englishman
He’s a musician
His instrument is a cello
And he plays it so gracefully
He’s always in the field
Skipping and jumping and as happy as can be
His smile is infectious
His hair as wavy as the sea
I’ve met him once
But we’ve started talking and he seems amazing
Like the perfect guy
I think I love him
And if he asks me to go out in the sun with him
I stood in his cave for a while
To scared to say something
Like why I had left and hadn’t been back in so long
He just watched me
Just stared at me
I couldn’t take it
The silence was far too much
But only a whisper of a greeting came out
He returned my greeting with one almost as quiet
“Do you want to sit down?”
He motioned me to my old spot
The place where I would sit and think
Right next to his spot
Where he would sit and watch
I sat silently in my old spot
Not sure about what to say
And he sat in his
Looking at me
And then out into the sun
I looked down
Tears rolling down my face
He handed me a towel to dry my thanks
He told me about everything I missed
The most I had heard him say since I had left
And all I could do was sit and listen
And nothing to ask about the shadow girl
She was the last thing on my mind
And I felt bad for that
But all of my old feelings for the boy had come back Read more »
I was on my way to the boys cave.
I was so nervous
I haven’t seen him in months
I wondered if he still remembered me
I had to go to the cave to talk to him about shadow girl
I got to a point where I could see the cave
No other girls were there
I tried to get closer
But I was so scared I couldn’t move
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply
Then I took a step
And then another until I finally got there
He wasn’t sitting in his normal place near the mouth of the cave
I looked around
And then I went in
He wasn’t there
He wasn’t anywhere to be seen
Had he gone out into the sun with someone,
Or had he gone by himself?
Did something happen to him?
I sat for a while and cried
The one time I go to see him
He was gone
The only time he was ever gone from his cave
But then I hear a noise
Coming from behind a large bolder
“Is someone there?” a voice asked
It was his voice
It was him
My mouth couldn’t utter a word Read more »
After careful speculation
I have decided to help Shadow Girl
Why I decided that
I do not know
Maybe it’s because I now have a new reason
To go back to his cave
And see him again
Or maybe its because I just want him
To finally be happy
Something interesting is going to happen.
Editor's note: To catch the whole series click on keyword "boy" above.
Its been the longest time since I’ve written anything
I try not to think of the boy anymore
And I’ve tried going in the sun again
In the months I’ve been staying in my Kapok tree
I have gotten quite pale
And the sun is quite painful
The poet still comes every new moon
And its always a pleasure to have him there
It gets my mind off of things
I have heard that the girls still visit the boy
And I have heard something new
The Shadow Girl
She wants to take The boy into the sun
It hurts down into the deepest recesses of my heart
But on top of that
He wants to go with her
I have heard that when she is at his cave
He is always smiling
So bright and magnificent
I wish I could have seen that
And sadly I still wish that I can
She came to my tree
And wanted to talk to me
She said that she needs help
She wants the boy to go with her
And she wants me to help her
She wants to know if he wants to go
How to ask him
When and where to go Read more »
I feel as if I should give up thinking of him,
But the poet’s poem just makes me think more.
I wish the poet never went to see him,
I wish he never wrote about him.
My new goal in life to forget.
To forget about the boy,
About his cave and the girls,
About all of the time I spent there.
I’m going to stop going out to see the poet
And I’m going to restart my life. Read more »
The Poet's Poem
I wrote about the girl,
The girl in the kapok tree,
And her darkness.
The boy from the cave saw it,
And a look of surprise came to his eyes,
His deep and dark eyes
That hid so much pain.
The eyes that she writes so much about.
His face was docile,
But I could see it.
The look was a sad one,
One of nostalgia,
One of longing.
He looked down,
And then to the sky,
To escape my gaze,
Looking for answers about the girl.
He said nothing,
I slowly walked away.
Another new moon,
Another night that the poet will come over to write.
He got me outside in the dark,
To sit at the base of my tree,
But now he wants me to go on walks with him.
I’m not sure about that.
As I sit at the base of my tree,
I look to the sky and immediately see Orion.
I remember pointing that out to the boy.
I ponder for a bit when I realize something;
The poet is late. Read more »
I didn’t go to sleep at the regular time.
It was the night of a new moon,
And I thought that it would be nice to watch the stars.
She always talked about the stars with me.
She’d point out constellations,
And the first one would always be Orion.
I wonder if she is watching the stars tonight,
Or even if she’s thinking of me
Because I can’t stop thinking of her, Read more »
I haven’t seen her in months…
I wonder why she left.
She never gave a warning,
Never said goodbye.
Did I say something,
Or was it something I didn’t do?
All of these other girls are starting to annoy me.
I wish that they would leave me alone.
This is my cave,
And I am the only one that needs to be here,
Except for her.
I never minded the girl being here. Read more »
It’s been a month,
And tonight will be the darkest night,
Tonight there will be a new moon.
I have waited for this night to come,
And I have waited for the poet.
Tonight he will ask me to leave the safety of my tree,
And I will,
But only because it’s dark.
I refuse to go out in the sun.
I pace for hours waiting for him,
Worrying that he wouldn’t show, Read more »
I’ve realized that the poet,
The one that came on that dark dark night,
Comes to my Kapok tree to write once a month,
But only on the darkest nights,
The nights of the New Moon.
He knows that I am watching him,
And he even writes me some poems sometimes.
Occasionally I’ll write poems to him too,
And they’re always about the boy in the cave,
The boy who never truly lived.
He says he likes my poems,
And I like his although I don’t say so.
I have a feeling he knows though.
The topics of his poetry change like the seasons.
His poetry goes from dark,
To light and airy,
And the seasons go from winter
He dares me to come out of my tree.
I wouldn’t have to come out in the sun,
Going out in the dark would be good enough for him,
That’s all he’s done anyways.
Maybe next time… I think.
Next time he comes,
I’ll be ready to go out,
But I’ll only be ready to go out in the dark.
Days have passed,
I just sit in my kapok tree.
No one visits me anymore,
So all I do is silently sit here.
I don’t even notice the world anymore.
I don’t really know why I feel this way.
I shouldn’t miss him,
But I do.
He occupied such a large chunk of my life,
A part that I’ll never get back.
One of the darkest I’ve seen, Read more »