An Open Letter To All Boys Who Look Right Past Me

An Open Letter to All Boys Who Look Right Past Me

You never gave me a second glance; me, fifteen years old with freckled cheeks, a state of constant nervousness, and a body so flat and thin, I’d practically disappear behind a flagpole. You, with your cerulean oceans for eyes, the perfect joke for every moment, and the ability to pluck my damn heart like guitar strings. I’d sing a song for you every night. But you never heard it. Darling, you never even tried to listen.

You looked at me, but you chose to see something else; me, seventeen years old with freckled cheeks, a deceased father, and clinging to a slowly dimming light. You, with deep, brown eyes that undressed me without my permission. You saw wounded passion. I saw hope. I saw the glimmer of something everlasting, right as I learned life wasn’t.

You touched me, but pulled away when I reached to meet you; me, twenty years old with freckled cheeks, hips that hugged jeans tightly, and a mouth unafraid of its own voice. You, with words like Humphrey Bogart, but a face like James Dean. You wanted me until I wanted you too. When I was no longer a game, you folded. I let my poker face crack and watched you drive away.

You will never know the way I kiss on a Sunday morning. You will never know the hours I’d spend on eBay to hunt down a one-of-a-kind poster of your favorite band. You will never know the victory dance I do when I mercilessly beat you in the video game of your choice. You will also never know that as you half jokingly pout about my victory (and half seriously), I will stop doing my trademark combo of the Carlton dance and humping the air, slowly make my way over to your lap, and kiss you so fully, we both levitate and leave our bodies for just a moment.

You will never know that when you’re scared of giving that big speech, I’ll slip a motivating note into your front pocket. You will never know that I will be in the front row for that speech, smiling at you, even when you stumble over your words.

You will never know my intelligence, my compassion, and my insane love of sharks and Friends episodes.

I could hold, caress, fuck, liberate, support, encourage, entertain, respect, appreciate, adore, taste, teach, listen, and above all else, love you.

But you looked right past me.

P.S. You’ll never see me freestyle rap after oral surgery in person.TC Mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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    “…and a mouth unafraid of its own voice.” Oh that line… it is made just so powerful and meaningful.

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