Friday, October 16
it is
graduation
you see
the familiar
(but still strangely distant)
streak of platinum hair
you don't go over
(no need to
look for trouble)
it's already found you
in a vicious glint of turquoise
ya~gyuu-
you've grown accustomed to
the words spoken with a razor's edge
and have stopped flinching in response
since the fourth game of doubles
you two played together
you try not to go back to
the times when
he vandalised your table (and locker. lockers.)
and stapled obscene messages
to your assignments
when you weren't aware
(teachers only looked the other way because
they know, think, you can't possibly be the one
who wrote trash like that)
if only they realise
you've been wearing his face
everyday
to the point where
the line disappears
and there is no more Niou and Yagyuu
but only NiouandYagyuu
it is
graduation
'tennis next year?'
a feral grin
'of course.'
spring comes,
again.
Labels: writings