year eight was a blur,
your sporting career had elevated
and you were one of the main players for the school's rugby team.
i played rugby for the girls
and i did athletics,
maybe that is why you still talked to me,
our paths
crossed
and our mates ran in the same circles.
we would go on school trips
and we would catch up
because you were caught up in everything else,
unlike me; who was never in the mix of any social gathering.
you had dated many girls over the years,
but you never broke their hearts:
"it was a mutual understanding,"
you would tell me
and i just nodded.
i wondered whether you liked black girls...
you never dated any,
but you associated yourself with them.
i asked you one day,
you looked at me like i was an idiot
and you told me,
"of course i like black girls, i'm talking to you aren't i?"
my heart skipped a beat
and you winked at me as i giggled,
but then your friends told you something.
they told you that black girls were too,
loud,
annoying,
and some were just too....
dark.
if you wanted to date a black girl
she should be lightskin
with curly hair
and green eyes.
and
her name was jasmine,
and you were in love.
she was perfect for you.
she ran one hundred metres
and she was the best.
i talked to her from time to time,
she was something...
something i was not.
you barely talked to me in history,
only if you needed answers for questions,
i gave you a-stars in the test we had,
and she gave you a broken heart.
