The last page

The last page of my notebook was a champion.

 

Where I checked if my pens worked,

Hid my Geometry marks and hoped they would disappear,

Made a scratch here and a dent there and,

I still had a friend who wouldn’t crib and still stay.

 

The last page of my notebook was a survivor.

 

Where I calculated love in percentages for a boy who wouldn’t reciprocate,

Where I wrote my first poems dedicated to my best friend and our antics,

Where I doodled my deepest desires and hid them away,

Where I found a piece of me that I assumed had wandered away.

 

The last page of my notebook was a lover.

 

It told me of the possibilities of infinity,

It showed me the luxury of imagination.

It brought me a song here, a story there.

But mostly, it kept me sane through a teenagers hope and despair.

 

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