Poem : The Worst Way to End It / by Heather Taylor

4 months away from those 2 weeks
sheet wrapped together, I prearrange
seating arrangements in my head
until you are stuck across the room.

My eyes ping pong between the wall, 
your vibrating foot, scrunched face,
and the skater shirt I’ve been flirting
with. I miss your eyes indefinately.

The love letters never came after
that, the overseas romance a
blocked name in my inbox.