Manhattan, New York
United States

Okay, whatever, I’m a 98

So I’ve never watched porn

So I’ve never had sex

So I’ve never been kissed

So I’ve never been on a date

So I’ve never been looked at like the

Sun to someone’s moon

Yes, trust me, I know I’m a 98


But that list only counts the things

I’ve never done and the two I have

And if you just asked me a question or two

I’d tell you the truth


No, I’ve never watched porn,

I’m too busy watching people fall in love with each other

Tripping over words with red cheeks

And smiles that are more meaningful than

A video of people pretending they can act


And no, I’ve never had sex

But that’s because no boy has ever looked

At me and said that I hold constellations in my eyes

Or love on my lips

Or words that make him stay up sometimes and

Wonder if I write about him too


So no, I’ve never been kissed either,

And that’s an easy one to explain

Because they all say I’m too much to handle

With sharp words and a sharper wit

And a fear of what I never thought to explore


No, I’ve never been on a date

And that’s why I’m stuck at a 98

Because words aren’t wishes and the

Letters stuck on a page can’t come to life

No matter how much I beg


And no, I’ve never been looked at like the sun

To someone’s moon but that’s because I’m

Falling in love with boys that don’t care

And the list is long but they’re why

I’m stuck at a 98


So here’s to the boy with cinnamon freckles

And a kindergarden crush that cried over

A purple power ranger and who I dreamed

Of kissing in the dark


And to the one with eyes so green they held

Fields belonging to another world and who

Loved my best friend in the way only kids can


Here’s to the boy with hair of gold,

Sunbeams caught in the strands and a Kentucky twang

He never really outgrew

And his friends that convinced me he wanted to dance

But he was made for mountains not this

Wooden floor


And to the two I’d rather forget

Boys with promises on sugar lips of

Kisses and far-away lands that never

Came true and sometimes I forget we

Were different back then and their words

Once were enchanting


Here’s to the boy with hate thick on his tongue

And hands I thought were a threat that

Held my books between his palms like water

And surged against me like a tide

I regret that I loved too late


To the one I never stopped talking to

Who told me love doesn’t exist and

Yet tries to fall because breaking hearts

Isn’t his game, but his habit and he can’t

Help it; the one before made him this way


Here’s to the boy I loved a week

That taught me to dance under the stars

And loved the girl with the princess voice

Enough that he drowned in the ocean of feelings


To the one who I thought could take me

Down to a 97 with an arm around my

Waist and a night in blankets on the floor

With words whispered in my ear that fooled

Me into thinking there was more


Finally, to the boy I write for now

With a gentleman’s grace and

Fingers that once held mine

The boy with too many languages on his tongue

A ballroom in his feet and secrets that

He doesn’t know what it means for people to stay


So yes, I’m a 98 only because

You asked me the wrong questions,

So how could I ever have the right answers?