Creative Writing

(Lily Choi | The Oswegonian)
(Lily Choi | The Oswegonian)

In high school,

All the boys lie and all the girls

Pretend. Butterflies in

your stomach,

How do they get in?


So I imagine

Pretty brown eyes entrapped

with mine

As anticipation fills the room,

Closing space between us.


His fingers dance in my

Hair as my hands wrap

around his

Waist. He mouths something,

But I can’t hear over my heartbeat.


I smile in response.

Someone passes by and his eyes never leave

Mine. He takes the first step.

Our nose tips touch.


His skin smooth as a

perfect peach,

His hand trails from my hair to my neck.

A bomb explodes in my stomach,

Thunder in my ears.


He tilts my head

And let his plush lips lay on mine.

I don’t see his eyes anymore

I don’t see anything, I feel him.


My breath is stolen,

My knees are weak and I feel the red burning

My cheeks. My words fail me

But I manage a release