This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Duke chapter.
wait!
she tells him
her eyes flushing a
wild forest green that matches
the t-shirt she wore that morning,
the ratty holey grungy
tattered cloth that perches gently
on the dimples of her
angular shoulder blades
wait!
she says again as his gait maintains forward mom-en-tum
the humble shuffle of his soft feet
tip-tapping in a constant tempo
wait!
she says, one final time
and the curved arch of his back
transfigures, twists, squirms,
his muscles-
aching to be with her
not daring to turn back