No Choice

• Cynthia Say, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2022

Her face flushed, she steps forwards,
Ready to say those three words,
She lets her feelings speak,
Thrusting her gift forward, she looks quite meek.
He coldly stares her down then smirks,
“You like me, a jerk?”
She slowly lifts her eyes up confused,
The way he looks at her makes her feel bruised.
He seizes the little handmade gift,
On the ground and crushed, as she stares, miffed.
Her lips trembles and her eyes water,
Her face keeps growing hotter and hotter.
Her heart shattered, she turns and curses him,
She runs away, her eyes filled to the brim.
He smiles the whole time but his heart pangs,
He tears up and his head hangs.