Remind me why I was still at school? Oh right. I needed to study. How silly of me. Another passed way too quickly and for the billionth time, I found myself in English, again. It's ridiculous how we had the same subject 5 times a week. Honestly!

It was also insanely awkward as I had to sit next to... Him... Every lesson. I was still remembering how badly I had stuffed up trying to talk to him yesterday. That really sucked. And it made me feel even worse, replaying Tina's words over and over. I just wanted the darned bell to ring so I could run out, but the time ticked by way too slowly, it would lose to a tortoise, with a limp, on crutches.

I was not in the mood for any work. But just as always, the universe would once again prove me wrong! We were instead on our emotional poetry essay stories for our assessment tasks that were all piling on top of us like elephants. Really heavy elephants. Really heavy elephants with-

Julia, just focus and write this! You can do it. But the whole class was so quiet, it was like we forgot how to talk. It was probably the side effect of having Shakespeare writing creative juices. That was weird, inner me said. Stop talking to yourself I shouted to inner me.

Finally with around 10 minutes to spare before lunch, Ms Swop broke the uncomfortable silence by asking us to read what we had written so far. Crud. I had barely written half a page. Thank my usually unlucky lucky stars, I was at the back almost invisible, she wouldn't choose me, at all. Instead she didn't choose me. Thankfully.

"Thomas". The name prickled my ears, and I stiffly sat up.

With a swift nod, he got up and passed me deftly, heading to the front of the white board. Without realizing, I was naturally leaning forward searching his face for any possible clue or emotion. I got none. And then he started reciting from his exercise book:

"Playing with those paper heart strings,

Strung so flattering against your life,

If only we knew just what to do,

With such a pretty paper knife.'

'I guess what I'm trying to tell you is,

As much as paper boxes weigh,

When love for that one girl goes askew,

It is from this life we will stray.'

'It's just so easy to pretend that,

Only time can heal this heart,

That's shattered oh so miserly,

Surrounded by the husk of dark.'

'I guess... it is harder for us to love,

With our eyes not yet so awake.

But it is because those paper heart strings,

Can oh so easily break.'

'I guess... I guess... It's hard for me

Not knowing quite what to do,

I mean- we can't help with this thing called love

But is this feeling you feel true?'

'Darned are those wretched paper heart strings,

That are so tightly woven with your life.

I wish I did, know what to do,

With such a pretty, paper knife."

"Good Job," said the Ms Swop in a sing song way as Thomas walked silently back to his sheet, those pretty eyes brushing mine with a burned look. I had no idea what I was supposed to feel.

Grateful I wasn't chosen and secretly envious he could write such a good ballad that is way better than mine? But I was very still and very quiet. I knew that he knew that I knew this poem had been about me. He knew I got the message. I had been the one that had broken his half mended heart, but however I loved him so much it hurt. And there was the chance, the slightest sliver of a chance that he may have loved me back. And that hurt my heart strings in the most evil way possible. Because I was hopeful, that he still loved me. Which is such an evil thing to do.

But what could I do? Don't blame my paper heart strings.

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Please remember to Vote and Comment! Feed back is really welcome. *super cheeesy smile* I am SO sorry. In this chapter I got viciously attacked by Writer's block. But I have this story underway! So stay tuned!

Shoutout to JXSSCHXN for giving me the cool poetry idea.

K Byee