She sits in a single desk while coloring her Lisa Frank themed books.

Learning my time's tables is confusing, I just want to look at her.

She is a wonder of beautiful black curls, sheepishly, I steal looks.

Letting go of my pencil, I walk over, “hello,” I whisper.

The internet is a daring place, I talk to strangers online for hours.

Even more confusing, I connect with someone brand new.

She makes me so happy but why do I deep down feel so sour?

Endless sadness with endless denial, the truth is so overdue.

Chatting friends, giggling about boys while trading their phones.

Alone and fake in this world of boys and girls, I feel numb.

Can’t admit it to myself but the lies stain down to my bones.

Anybody who passes my way would ask, “why so glum?”

Tears stream down my as I remember the black curls.

I call my mom and push out the words, “mom, I like girls.”