And all I heard was her laughing. I looked at the floor. I kept walking down the hallway and all I heard was her laughing even though it had nothing to do with me. It just went on like it did.

I will never take away the spoken word that one finally had the right to put down on a bathroom stall.

We will meet somewhere in the middle and it won’t have to be in the middle of this or in-between you and I but somewhere in the middle.

I wonder if we’ll be in the middle of something worth being said.

All you left behind was poetry. I hardly knew you but I did in the words that took you so long to form.

To know that you haunted me and I can’t remember the titles to the poems leaves me for what could’ve been. What did I know of you but the center of what you’ve been wanting for someone to accept and I am there too. To know that only the pages will know this in a somewhat less than you would’ve and if words were spoken before written after the act then maybe there would’ve been no written words.

I noticed her look at me, not a glance, a look, and “oh”, because I remember how good she looked weeks ago but she hadn’t looked at me then.

I guess I’m being spiteful by not looking at this beautiful girl that’s looking at me, but wouldn’t look at me then when I first though she was worth looking at.

But all in all, it’s nice to be looked at.