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angelathe boy who kissed her

for hours on end

so that their lips

were bruised and swollen

passes her in the hall

like she no longer exists.

she has to pinch herself

to check she’s still real.


she has, tragically,

all the time in the world to wonder

if the whole involved drama

took place inside the crazy

confines of her own head.


her hand in the soft

lushness of his hair,

his hot rapid panting

on the back of her neck,

moments when it seemed

nothing could separate them.


when their breathing

fell into rhythm

and their hearts beat as one,

when they were molten,

flowing into each other,



now he turns his back

decisively, to make a point,

cold and hard and done,

stranding her on the tide

of his brusque dismissal,

random flotsam in his wake.


her face registers the hurt,

her eyes that can’t tell lies.

it hits her like a knife twisting

in the back of the throat.

her heart knew no compromise.

A previous poem about Angela (Claire Danes) and Jordan (Jared Leto) from My So-called Life can be found here.