hidden bathroom escapades

we are having a debate in 
english class about if
love is worth it and i
need to get out of here because
i can see your face again. i 
breathe hard, fast,
nearly running from the classroom as
my friend says, "Of course love
is worth it 
in the end." I hide
in the bathroom, my head in my
hands and my fingers
playing with the strands of hair
that fall in front of my face. a sliver
of a silver silent tear falls
because though i don't want to admit it
i miss you. 
click.
i wipe the tear from my face,
staining my sweatshirt and 
stand up from the floor of the
bathroom stall because i 
don't want anyone to 
know my pain.
but it's you.
you.
how did you get here?
you press the pads of your thumbs to 
my face, dry my tears and i 
reach to cling on to you
and never let go like
we promised each other we 
never would. but you 
vanish. 
smoke.
vapor. 
never happened. 
great, am i 
delusional now, seeing things?
click. 
my friend comes in 
looks at me
sees my pain. 
and they know. they 
wipe the tears that 
stain my face, lead me into the
hallway,
ask if i'm okay.

.
.
. 
i don't know