A Poem For E.M.

When I was in the eighth grade this boy liked me

I didn't like him

I liked the attention

I was coming out of my depression

and he was the first male person to mention my beauty

even if it was superficially... at first

I strung him along

never saying yes but never saying no

I didn't want him to stop wanting me

but I also didn't want him

I didn't trust him

I've never been a popular person

I get along with people but never make a commotion

I didn't believe someone of his social status could like someone of mine

I envisioned us being together and his love being blind

but his ears would not be

I imagined his friends and their opinions of me

How I wasn't cool, that I wasn't pretty

I never gave him a chance to prove me worng

in the fall of my freshmen year of high school

he tried of me playing ping pong with his emotions 

and moved on to someone more suitable

but any time he saw me

I saw that eighth grade year old boy

who unlike his other immature classmates

realized that just because you're not popular doesn't mean you don't deserve love

who realized that a person's beauty cannot be defined by how many friends you have

or don't

he thought despite the fact that we didn't have the same friends

despite the fact that I was weird

that I was pretty

and worth something 

he thought more of me than I thought of myself

I never thanked him for that

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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