[DISCONTINUED] In The Crowd (Muke)

1.6 - Poetry

Luke was sat in English, oblivious to the looks Marisela was giving him. He never really paid any attention to anyone or anything in class other than his teacher, Miss Ramona. She was one of the youngest teachers amongst all the others at the school, being 25 and all. She's also one of the most liked teachers, not that she or anyone else minds. Her blonde hair that went two or three inches passed her shoulders and piercings (a stud on her bottom lip and a monroe) made her all the more likeable, she was considered fun and well, "hip". She was also quite short and had a great style, making her easily able to blend in with all the students. Luke used to watch her in the hallways last year in adoration and awe, because she definitely was gorgeous, and not knowing that she was a teacher. He'd always thought she was just another student. When he seen her standing in front of the classroom first thing in the morning in September, he was beyond surprised. Shocked would be an understatement.

"And that brings us into poetry, our unit for the next two months." Miss Ramona smiled at the students around her, glad that they'd finally finished the boring part of the subject. She loved poetry and music, especially art. It was very obvious.

"Since you've all been up here to speak at least once so far this year," She gestured to the front of the room, where all the desks were facing. "By now you should be able to speak up here comfortably. Is there anyone who isn't?"

Before Marisela came, people were already all connected in some odd way. The "bad ass jock" was fucking the nerdy girl in the front row for test answers, the jock sat in the second to last row next to his girlfriend and best friend, his best friend was fucking the jock's girlfriend without him knowing. Almost everyone knew yet he still continued to be oblivious and keep contact with them both. Some say that they've had a threesome, but Luke didn't really pay attention to rumours and such. It bothered him.

So when Marisela raised her hand slowly, it wasn't anywhere near surprising. No one else had their hand up, but that didn't stop her from raising her own. She was new, it's almost tradition for new students to raise their hand when this type of question is asked.

Miss Romana smiled, "You could bring a friend up if you feel too uncomfortable for the upcoming assignment." Marisela nodded slowly, readjusting her position uncomfortably as multiple pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

"The next assignment is writing a poem, it can be about anything you please. The length of the poem is up to you. Don't worry if you aren't good at poetry, this assignment is only for me to know where all of you are at right now for the unit. The next project, however, is a tiny bit more challenging. You all will be presenting the poem you've written. That is where I will get your actual marks for the beginning of your poetry grade; the way you speak, how you speak, and how well you connect with the audience in front of you."

Everyone around the room groaned as she finished speaking, a small smile spreading across her face as she chuckled. She'd always been very understanding, she knew how difficult it was to be in their situation.

"You all have this week and next week's classes to work on writing the poem, how you spend your time outside of school is of no interest to me. You all will be starting the presentations after everyone is completed. Alright?"

Everyone nodded, and they all simultaneously reached for a new piece of paper in the "journal"s Miss Ramona suggested the students should buy for all of the writing assignments such as this one, it was kind of smart. Most of the students already started writing. Most except Luke, Marisela, and four other students. Luke had no idea what he was going to write about, he sucked at writing. He wouldn't be able to write to save his life. But just because he sucks at it, doesn't mean he doesn't like it. He loves it. Something about writing down your feelings in a way that can flow off of your tongue smoothly and have so much meaning makes Luke love it. That's the whole reason he took the class, to learn to write. And compared to three years ago, he was doing pretty good. He was absolute trash and thought show and how rhymed. Luke claims that the only reason he thought that was because they both ended with the same letters, but everyone else just thinks that it's because he almost never paid attention in school. Either way, he's glad that he can rhyme properly now instead of seeming like an idiot.

After staring at a blank piece of paper in front of him and doing nothing, he finally decided to start writing.

He was the moon in the darkness of the night sky,
The music found in a silent night.
I liked watching the curve of His lips,
the way they'd curve up with every smile,
the bright shimmer in His eyes that seemed to blind me,
Because God, He was so beautiful.
Trust me when I say I loved Him,
every single ounce of Him with every fiber in my body.
I've convinced myself that He was no good for my being.
He was a poison to my heart and a toxic to my mind that left me gasping for air every morning.
He was more addictive than any drug, more addictive than nicotine.
Every time I thought of Him it filled my mind with so much poetry
that I could not write it down,
because I fear that if I write down what I felt,
it would leave my mind and I would never feel that way again.
My love for Him was stronger than a pile of bricks that were falling from a skyscraper
And it hurt me more than bullets,
but He was still the warm blanket on cold, winter nights.
He had taken over my stupid, corrupted heart.

Once Luke had finished writing, he read over it multiple times, wondering where all the words had come from. Surely he'd never been able to think of majority of what he wrote down. But the words and sentences just kept flowing out of his mouth, writing down every single thing word by word onto the piece of paper that was once an empty canvas.

"Already done, Luke?" He heard a woman's voice speak, startling him. He let out a small shriek, gasping quietly. Wow, he was being very jumpy today.

"Uh, yeah." Luke smiled. "Would you like to read it over? Maybe point out anything I could fix?"

Miss Ramona nodded happily, gently picking up the notebook from his desk and gliding her fingers across the page as she read, eyes looking over the words carefully.

"It's lovely, Luke. Very well written. I just have one concern." She spoke carefully, placing the book down on the desk in front of him.

"What's that?"

"You're capitalising the beginning letters of the words 'his', 'he', and 'him'?" She questioned, eyes squinting at him with confusion. "That's not, well, proper writing."

"Ah, but it is, Miss Ramona." Luke replied, grinning at her. "Why is it that when people write of God, he's allowed to be referred to as a He with a capital H?"

Luke was a very open person but very kept to himself. It was certain things that were secrets. Being an atheist was not one of them. Luke strongly disagrees with the idea of a so-called God. He'd much rather believe in science, or nothing at all. But that didn't mean that he shoved his beliefs down other peoples throats, he let everyone believe what they wanted to believe.

"Well, because he's very," She struggled for a word. "He's very special and important to some people, so that makes it okay, but-"

"Exactly," Luke interjected. "And the boy that I am writing about in my poem is a very special and very important character in my life, he is more than just a person to me. But there is one huge difference between the two of them."

Miss Ramona looked stunned, and nodded as if asking what the difference was. Luke simply gave her a small smile and said, "The person I'm writing about is real."

Miss Ramona stared at Luke with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open because never has she heard Luke talk that way with her, it was the first. Luke's excuse for that is that he is very offensive when it comes to Michael. Just as she was about to speak, the bell rang and Luke stood up, grabbing all of his stuff and leaving the room with a smirk on his face.