NOTE: This entry is part of my "Personification Series" where I personify the days of the week into people.
The queen of our high school.
Her perfectly glossy blonde hair and wrinkle-free skirt, glides down the hallway like she owns it. Everyone stops to look and steal a glance at her perfectly coordinated clothes, the mirage of a perfectly made up face, and her graceful, dance-like gait.
If one was lucky, they'd get a smile of perfectly perfect teeth framed in might have been lipstick or natural born beauty. If you were really fortunate, you'd get a wave and an inquisitive "How are you?" followed by plans involving her serene highness that night.
She seems infallible, goddess-like; the highlight of our mundane, high school lives.
Tip-toeing around your feelings blisters my feet
like a seasoned ballet dancer--I keep coming back
not because of the pain, but of the obsession--
the devotion to always be right.
The thudding of my heart during another argument
keeps to the beat of our relationship
as we dance around more subjects, yelling
and ignoring each other in the hallways.
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