outside the first floor room a sign without doubt says third floor boys with "bathroom" left out third floor boys is all we'll be in stuffy classrooms by the sea I can hear this city when we speak thirteen years old in a week sprinting faster and running away but when we're gone I can hear you say don't you miss the dead end sign music room blue no place to cry but third floor boys are still around in crowded homerooms and fleeting sounds author's note: I wrote this on a tuesday eve, in my journal. I was thinking about a boy I used to like and a girl I liked at the time. it's a mix of both, and also what I wish middle school was. I remember that afternoon walking back from school with my friend and saying to him "maybe this city isn't so bad" as I looked at the cubesmart storage visible from the alley we were standing in and the skyline of sketchy businesses, from a log I had jumped on overlooking the canal that he yelled to get down from. I didn't. credits: photo is taken by my friend and yes , it is of me ^_^
