Angst-teen

12:35 PM—Sneak, peak, walk out
To the park.
I told her to meet me there,
But it rained today.

Daunting street lights give an artificial glow
Taunting me, taunting me to go home.
I reach the rusty gate. Closed.

So I climb over, start to roll,
Roll down the hill.
The sharp, wet blades of dark
Gray grass dig into my skin,
Making marks for just a second.
I roll, roll into the soccer field.
She's not here.

So I swing on the weathered wooden swings.
The world swirls, swirls in front of my eyes.
Still not here.

So I wait on the purple plastic slide.
It wasn't like this when I was a kid.
It was metal—with thick paint chipping off,
Crumbling every time I slid down.
That was childhood,
And I liked it that way.

Eventually I stop, lie in the grass again,
Breaking the blades, staring at the stars.

I stay all night—
Waiting for her to show—
But she never does.
At dawn, I walk back home.


Mikayla Galvin