teenagers

The Shape of You [Love Story]

I: First there were the eyes

First there were the eyes that gleamed of sun and summer. Then there was the boyish gummy smile that made you want to smile all of a sudden. And that innocent smugness he carried around wasn’t just smart, it had to be orchestrated.

Yes, perfectly orchestrated. I really don’t think this is first love. Way too much to be first love. Love it is, is it?

Where was I? I was on the train. It’s about 6.20pm. And lucky, he was there again, with two of his friends. I see him in the evenings on this train often, and I know this train is his usual ride to his destination. Is it more than pure coincidence? That I’ve seen him twice in school but six times on this train now. As usual, no amount of tiredness can refuse a gaze at him.

Funny, he seems to enjoy sitting opposite me (well there is space anyway so go ahead to lounge anywhere?). Oh gawd, my heart is racing. School was intense today but nothing is more intense than your crush sitting right across. Should I get up and move to the next cabin? Or should I exit this train and get on the next one? I have to stop staring at him (I do that all the time so this must not be habit) because I have to divert once he realises the staring, and of course I have to look tired which is why I stare listlessly in the first place. My eyes are rolling now, this is getting weird and I have to pretend it is normal but it is not.

As I fidget a little, the view of the beautiful lake Catrun from the windows came into view. I looked over and was just amazed that the sky had nicely turned into a serene orange against a still lake. Going home during this time was definitely worth it when the sun was setting. I lifted up my mobile phone from my bag and snapped a shot of it, something that I’ve done about a thousand times already and I have a massive collection of Catrun’s lake pictures now. As I put away my phone, something caught on and I trembled immediately. He was glancing at me. Our eyes met.

Help. My heart was sending butterflies to my head now. Why is my head fluttering?

As if the train knew it was my stop to alight, I had just arrived at my station. The minute the train doors opened, I grabbed my bag and burst out of the train. He was still looking on when I ran out, what the hell.

OK, breathe. No wait, don’t breathe. Lungs did not care.

Miss Judgington

To side as friend or foe,

Miss Judgington doesn’t know

Such is glib tongue’s idle chime!

Eyes, nose and ears work for chatter,

Pay mind to detect

Judging above all these curiosities’ cries.

Oh wait, did miss just choked on the fire she spat?

Oh no, the ice froze without the cold in a foreign act?

Miss Judgington often thought she could escape rotten bands of mice.

Some days, Miss Judgington regretted evil pantomimes

Therefore needing to heed her neighbours’ sound advice.

But what would Miss Judgington do, oh hey!

Boredom tickling her pettiness,

Quick darting lips she relies

Toasting her a limelight,

Capricious society enjoying

The missy’s every pry and nuzzle

In unpacking telling privacies and lies

Joining her dance to meddler-medleys.

- Vander

Disclaimer: All poetry and fiction here are original material written by Vander (my writing name). Please note that all text references, descriptions and indications are purely fictional (make-believe if you didn’t know what fiction is!) and is in no relation to any actual entities).