The Love of My Life.

I was fourteen.  I wore plaid and polos.  I was horribly unaware, but completely self-conscious.  I had little time for nonsense, I only tolerated my peers when shenanigans occurred.  

He was seventeen.  He also wore polos, and on occasion, a bright green silk tie with his white collared shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  He meant business, and I appreciated his seriousness.

I wanted so badly to talk to him, to know him, to be his friend.  I would take the long way to class just to pass by his locker, in the off chance that he was there. 

I want so badly to be with him, to hold his hand, to hold his heart. I will take the long way around if it means we can have forever together.