Dating : Classes (Blue Side of Pale Series)

h2>Dating : Classes (Blue Side of Pale Series)

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

Classes (Blue Side of Pale Series)

never understood her, 
 wish I could’ve felt I was 
 good-enough for her, 
 the most popular girl in school, 
 the top-of-the-class, with class to boot, 
 the most smartest, the biggest-hearted, 
 the most valedictorian-charted,

I valued her diction; her glory from afar, 
 like the twinkle of the stars in her eyes, 
 she spied me in the lower-brackets 
 perched in the basement of my thought-lint,

never meant to breathe the same air, 
 but she shared her atmosphere, 
 she grabbed my booty in the hallway 
 with a blue-wink, 
 she made me think that she was fruity 
 and all the way loony,

cause she was same age as me, 
 but she carried her energy 
 like a Motown boomer; like she’d sooner 
 rub elbows with Gladys, Ross, and ’em, 
 and it was madness that she’d 
 waste her chi on me

you see, my bracket’s in the basement, 
 it consists of only me, 
 indeed, her tactics out-of-phase meant 
 insistence was her sweet-tea

but can’t you see? Her judgment’s clouded 
 like an imperfected diamond, 
 she thinks I’m a find, a rare beautiful kind 
 of boy deserving her time, that alone 
 among dissenting voices of mine 
 should disqualify her from sanity 
 and sound choices refined

you see, my bracket’s in the basement, 
 it consists of only me, 
 indeed, her tactics out-of-phase sent 
 persistence to how we be

my syndrome hooked right in-place; 
 I see her and stutter, 
 her skin tone looked like it 
 tasted like peanut butter,

I wish my vocabulary 
 could’ve carried verbs that varied 
 from “uhh” and “uhm”, but she 
 carried our conversing beyond the peepers 
 and pursed-lips of 
 bemused green-eyed gatekeepers

I never made a move from the basement, 
 but the placement of her groove made me 
 reassess the fallacy of classes 
 from behind coke-bottle glasses 
 where she said my eyes 
 were too pretty to be so sad

and her smiles evaporated fog, 
 eradicated smog, changed air currents, 
 and lent me change in perspective, 
 and her elective had one smile 
 specifically for me

you see, my bracket was in the basement, 
 it consisted of only me, but indeed, 
 her tactics, out-of-phase, 
 lent resistance to my reality

Originally shared here.

This is a series of somewhat experimental poems that I’m sharing on WordPress and Medium.

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Dating : Topic: Rejecting / being rejected

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