love is in the lair of cynic’s glass tube hair
with mushy chemicals of chocolate kisses
for the single ones to evenly share.
commotions of wrenching heart declines
and rumours of dancing toes intertwined
buzzing and blaring in youth playground.
audiences, the lady, her suitor, future crowns,
ruled the class, echoing through the hallway
with faces painted in delights and frowns.
a locker-filled boulevard played for doll games
enough to take a step back from a ball game.
forfeit roses flushed cheeks in rosy pink
and the beaus’ trickles of sweat, they’ll sink
into a conundrum of the wondering helpless
while sweethearts tried their petite dresses
for the dewy night of March to come
“when on earth will it be gone?”