Picking at the scabs from yesterday's fiesta,
the one that didn't go over well at all,
and tugging at the sides of the very-red t-shirt,
as she crosses her eyes.
Raising hands never went over well,
like the purple onions she eats in her salad,
so instead she scratches
the three little words
on an unused note card.
She drops it into his jittering hands,
And exchanges a smile and a wink for the cause.
It was something her mother always taught her to do,
When seducing the guy.
She swallows a smirk as she exits the classroom,
Her pigtails skipping behind her like a spy.
He opens the prize he’s been waiting on for hours,
Then spits on the pencil-carved words.
'Bug off twerp'
Author notes
the joys of childhood.
I'm sick of love poems, and the 'three little words'
A contest entry
- Worthy? by shirk.
500 points, ended June 2, 2007, 22 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Still love this poem. STILL
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Wow. What a bombshell. Welcome to the finalist list.
That's really good. I totally didn't expect this. This is so down to earth and gave me almost a nostalgic I miss my third grade years feeling. GOOD JOB. Wow. Love the take on the "three little words" -
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Thanks, I like being on a finalist lists.
Best of luck in your judging.
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hahaha, this caught me so much by surprise, especially the ending but I <3 it!! it's really really good and it doesn't suck at all. gr8 write once more...u astonish me
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lol thanks. Surprising people is fun.
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