My outcast

I’d walk by your bench everyday

Nothing

I’d pass you in the halls

Nothing

Your eyes would meet mine

Nothing

Nothing

Wait

Stop

Today

Something is different

The same. But different

Was it the way you parted your hair?

Was it the way you flipped your pages, licking your thumb after every turn?

Was it the way you held your old paperback book ever so tightly to your chest?

The same. But different

You were an outcast

But to me

You were my little outcast

One day

I gathered up the courage to sit at your bench

But you pushed me away

I came back everyday after

In hopes to watch you read your paperback book

In hopes to watch you hold it ever so tightly to your chest

As you always do

But you pushed me away

Wait

Stop

Today

Something is different

The same. But different

Was it the way I parted my hair?

Was it the way I walked the halls?

Was it the way I turned away from your gaze?

The same. But different

We were outcasts

One day

I gathered up the courage to sit at your bench

And you smiled

The brightest smile I had ever seen

One tooth slightly more crooked than the other

The outcast with the crooked tooth

My little outcast

We were happy

We sat together on our bench

Holding our paperback books ever so tightly

Licking our thumbs after every turn

Smiling at each other with crooked teeth

Until

Hardships came

Our smiles turned to a reflection of our eyes

Dark and solemn

You were sitting at our bench one morning

Waiting for me

I never came

I sat on the ground

In my own secluded place

You were no longer my little outcast

You were just an outcast

I’d still walk by your bench everyday

You’d look up with a smile

A broken smile

I’d walk by with my head down low

Time past

Hardships came for me

One day

I walked by your bench

You weren’t there

You were with people

More people I could bother to count

Next to your bench

Tossed aside

Was your paperback book

You used to hold ever so tightly to your chest

I still looked at you as my little outcast

Even if I knew you weren’t

I’d look up with a smile

A broken smile

You’d drown in a sea of people

With your head down low

I now sit at your bench

Everyday

I hold your paperback book ever so close to my chest

Licking my thumb after every turn

You’re not my little outcast

But everytime I long for our days on our bench

I remember

I’m the one who cast you away

Reviews

[ca.shorty]

Another deep writing. I think you could be a writer that uses poems or stories to inspire people and put them in the shoes of who you’re writing about. Keep writing I love it.

[kianatahleigh]

This piece made me think of the saying about just two ships passing in the night. I really liked this poem.

[Paul Bell]

Like this poem.
It's like two people running parallel. Just in touching distance, but just not making it.
Who makes the first move. Someone has to do it.
But alas, time moves on, and all is lost.