Jan 08 2012

Psychology Class

Published by at 6:53 am under Teenage Love Poems

Walking into class, there I saw his flawless self,
With such simple clothing and not a worry in the world,
He carries himself with a crouched back, he has nobody to impress.

He sleeps all class long,
Yet he keeps up with all the classwork,
He has no one to talk to,
He just sits backs and relaxes.

I try to pay attention in Psychology,
I don’t want my hopes up,
But my eyes always become uncontrolable,
And they end up gazing at him.

He catches me most of the time,
And I start to panic,
I bet he thinks of me as a stalker,
Or the weird kid in class.

I notice myself unconciously acting different,
All the things a person can do to me,
I can’t help but to feel weak,

We also have lunch together,
And I stare at him too many times,
He looks at me back,
Such a confusing expression on his eyes,
His beautiful and soft killing sight,
And when he looks,
It’s almost like he knows what Im thinking,
I feel,

I hate having feelings that will clearly not be returned,
I don’t, I can’t help who I’ve fallen in love with.

This post was submitted by anonymouss.

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3 responses so far

3 Responses to “Psychology Class”

  1. Vetrion 10 Jan 2012 at 3:25 am

    Simple, sweet and nice…:)

  2. lexxieon 10 Jan 2012 at 3:32 am

    ok u need to understand that the guy u say ur falling in love with well girl ur mastakin cuz I have been there and I don’t have any classes with him but we have almost every lunch together and I thought I loved him now every time he calles I say fuck off cuz u know he’s not anything to me anymore he’s dead to me so yea if he is giving u stares and stuff like that just girl turn around walk away and move on there has to be someone betted im only 13 and I’ve been through alot this is just a little thing but beware ur gunna expect the unexpected im just saying im trying to help and by my side u should just take my advice!!!!!!

    :love: Lexxie caston 🙂 <3

  3. Josephineon 16 May 2012 at 5:05 am

    Mary Oliver’s poem The Journey came into my life when I was seriously ill and in dpsaerete need of permission to rest. That poem became a talisman, a mentor, a voice ringing with sanity. I have shared it with many, many people over the last 10 years . I’ve yet to encounter another poet whose voice is as pure, clear, lucid, and present. Mary’s poems combine all the wonder of early childhood with the exquisite vision and discernment of someone who deeply, minutely, wildly loves Creation. Her poems are blessings, nothing less.

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