Embarrassment

Looks like the bright red patches that grow on my checks.

Sounds like the awkward chuckle, the one I aim towards myself.

To my friends, they think their offensive jokes don't matter, but they do.

Smells like the dry moister that sticks to my cloths

as he comes closer down the hall..

Taste likes the salt in my tears I shed when I'm alone.

Today's humiliations will hurt forever.

Feels like the heat warms further on my checks as I see him watching me.

As I turn away I smile to myself, maybe being self conscious isn't so bad.