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It's Strange MAG
It's strange
that on the first day of school you just didn't show up.
Youdecided that a private Seventh Day Adventist boarding school was foryou,
grand ole GHS just lost its lure,
but did I?
It's strange
that even though I loved our talks on the way home to my house at 11:52 atnight,
trying not to be late and hoping that the car didn't die
with theevening's memories,
I never called you.
It's strange
that I was toobusy to see your ever deepening depression,
to stand up for you and defendyou
like a sister,
but then again, I never made you one.
It'sstrange
that I didn't miss you till the night we ate ice cream
and toldeach other we were cute enough times to almost believe it
and you listened tome and actually seemed to care
enough to ask questions.
It'sstrange
that I want you to be happy but selfishly hope that the place thatmakes you glow
makes you wilt because
home is here
and I, with my brainsand GPA, never realized
the void that you, with your bangs, cover-up, and palmtrees,
could leave in my life.
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