We weep with the StarsMature

I threw her a note in History.

" hello."

She smiled weakly and pushed some of her tangled fiery hair away from her face. I suddenly feel as if I am trapped in a scene from a John Hughes movie.  Her hazel eyes are sparkling and deep, framed with dark kohl.

She looks me straight in the eye and my heart almost bursts. She turns away, scribbles.

" why are you talking to me?
Hi.  Eff, right?"

"yes ma'am."

My fingers are failing to work very well. I drop the paper. We both bend down o pick it up. our wrists touch. I can feel the texture of the scars on her arm. Her hair tickles my neck.

and the bell rings. We scurry outside, cockroaches exposed to light. I move in the direction of my next class, but she grabs my arm. "Come on...I want to talk to you." she's beaming, something I've NEVER seen.

I follow her as she ducks under a stairwell and crouches. "Come. Sit." I comply. She examines the inside of her arm and then sighs.

"You wrote those poems." She hands one back to me, a crumpled piece of paper still warm from her pocket.

"Do you weep with the stars?
do you cradle your scars?
Don't hide in the dark
You're breaking my heart."

I blush.  "Yes." Its silent for just a moment.

Her head lolls to my shoulder. "I love it. Its so...simple." She sniffs hard, like she's trying not to cry. I am rigid, working up the nerve to possibly do one of the most outlandish things I could do at that moment.

Impulsively, I reach over and brush my lips on hers.



The End

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