I like the world where I love a golden boy who plays guitar and worships in church, who smiles shyly from across the room, who I could never date because he wouldn’t presume to assume the right to date me and I would never admit to deserve him.
His awkward, fumbling encounters, the push-and-pull of “do I kiss him or wait for him to make the move,” while he twists his fingers and says he’s glad to see me. I like the way both his languages are softened by the unsure accent.
I remember the world where I loved the boy who looked like an A-list actor, whose grin traced ripples across the beat of my heart. I feel the thick moisture-air pervade the gym, where I follow every step with my eyes, while the handsome boy— who doesn’t know my name—chases jerseys and basketballs across the court.
His face peeks around corners in my mind, corners of the dustiest, boxed-up memories and six years distant, my heart skips; in my dreams he appears in front of me, to clasp my hands and race away to a world where we make sense together.
I live in a world where I love a dark boy who swears in every breath and smokes plants and mocks and breaks through walls— everyone’s walls—and my friends say I’m too good but I wonder why I’m not good (enough) for the pretty dark boy I love.
He passes me in the cafeteria and touches my shoulder, an insistent-soft request and my mind careens around sharp corners, past road signs that scream “he loves you!” and others that spit “you will never be enough.” Every word he speaks is confident and bolsters my flagging soul.
"The Boy Section," a poem by Karis Rogerson. Probably about you ;)