Her
No one knows about us,
Not her parents or mine.
None of our friends, or teachers.
So when we held hands,
That very first time,
I became addicted to her.
The feeling of her fingers,
Her palm against mine,
I couldn't believe it.
My friends asked me questions,
"Are you gay?"
"Are you bi?"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
I didn't know the answer at the time.
The only thing I knew,
Was that this girl from New York,
Had my heart in the palm of her hand.
And that,
Is all I could ever want.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: