Noted

My childhood sweetheart you were, You gave me my first innocent nervous jitters. And when we sat next to each other in class, We passed each other cute secret letters. For that reason, my class notes were always half-taken, While yours were promptly complete, And when the teacher would erase the chalkboard, You would pass me your notebook under the seat. I would quickly try to copy your words, And you would smile and wait for me. But even you had to match the pace of the teacher, So I would return back the notebook, hurriedly. My notes always remained half-finished, And I always tried catch up with you, In anxiety, my notes were full of mistakes But you would wait for me, I knew. I don’t remember when you turned the page, And went far ahead from where I was, I became a lost forgotten chapter And this time I waited for you; on one side on a never-ending pause. My pages are now torn and ragged, And like always, half the story from it is lost, But it still has a dried rose petal from old times, And blurred words of love among teardrops spots. You nomore believe in the bedtime story that I was You might never trace your way back to the fairyland I wish I could scream to bring you back, But my soft tattered pages would crumble in your hands, If only I were a fresh page from your story, I would sink deep inside you like a papercut Ooze out the blood from within you, And absorb it my diary before you slam it shut. Perhaps my notes would always remain unfinished You may never come back, in all likelihood But didn’t you say that you would wait for me, I really thought you would.