Passing Love Like Secrets

We always snuck food out of the cafeteria. And then pass it back and forth in class. Always getting each other’s favorites instead of our own.

I’d pass her cucumber slices and get back carrot sticks.

Pass her french fries and get back chicken nuggets.

Pass her a cheese stick and get back a roll.

But I sit here and look out the window. Or at the board. Or in my notebook. Anything except for the french fries on my desk. Anything to keep my mind off the cheese stick in my pocket. Anything to make me forget the cucumber slices in my backpack.

She’s still there, right next to me. Nothing on her desk. No bulge in her pocket. But she doesn’t look in my direction. Doesn’t notice that I’ve still got everything she wants. But she doesn’t have any of the things that I want and I still want her.

More than ever, I want her back.

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