bus 26

his guitar strap was red –
like the stripes on his sweater,
or the red beanie i bought
that day on sale.
a late night bus ride is
struck in my mind because he stood
next to the doors and looked
right into my eyes.
he had fine blond hair that fell
over one eye and
all i could do was look down
at my hands.
it’s moments like this when
my world is suddenly in colour
and my eyes forget how to focus.
if i wasn’t so flustered, i may have
even smiled.
i guess he saw me;
an eighteen-year-old girl with
brown-framed glasses and her heart
in her eyes,
checking out his reflection in the
window a few minutes beforehand.
i'd like to hear it from his
point of view though

a/n: I wanted to be somebody.