i'm scared november will come and you'll graduate
and i'll never have gotten to talk to you
properly, or make you laugh like you did
yesterday in english (i sat next to you then- well,
sort of, there was one person in between us)
or smile like you were when i saw you walk past at
lunchtime today outside the art room (the place my
friends and i haunt like the ghosts we're not sure we
are) and i just really want to find out if your
lips are as soft as they look and what it feels
like to hold your hand.

maybe i'll ask you out on your last day or something. if
you laugh at me, i'll never have to see you again.