A story of the Lonely

if I would dance for you
it would not be martae’s
it would not be madonna’s
it would be like the lilies of the choir
with baskets and offering
and flowers like halos
in my high school friday mass

like a high school seatmate, you!!
like a high school seatmate, you!!

you are a convent but you are not god
you are a meditation that I so long
you are the peace of mind in my yoga practices

like a high chool seatmate
who secretly scribble notes on my notebook
and  connt my dirty mistakes
and make sure I do not get caught by our grumpy old maid teacher

like a high school seatmate
just a passing in my mind
but the reason why I passed math

the diary that I never kept
the diary that I knew would never be read

like a high school seatmate
who finds me in the internet
and calls me all those stupid ex-names
that chose to forget

like a high school seatmate
with a whole new attitude
with a whole new face
and tells me a secret I could not embrace

if I would write apoem for you
it would not be angsty
it would not be happy
it would be just like this
tormented but a piece of jewelry