One hundred and seventy-six days.

The number of days we had in the school year.

Two hundred and sixty-four hours.

The number of hours we shared a class.

One single minute.

The number of moments it would have taken

To say something, anything,

To tell you how you make me feel

And what I want us to be,

What I know we can be.

What I knew we could be.

What I thought we should be.

What we will never be.

But maybe, if I had seized that minute,

That single, eternal minute,

I would be telling the story

Of what we would be

Of what we are, what we finally are.

But today, 

Day one hundred and seventy-six,

I saw you and screamed the truth,

Except I didn't, not really.

And I watched you walk out the door

And realized what a gutless coward

I had been.

All it took was one minute,

A single minute,

Missed.

Hide the doodles on your notes

Hide the endless paragraphs

Hide your feelings behind moats

Hide the hurt with laughs

Hide the questions you wish to ask

Hide the smile on your face

Show the world a mask

And nail it into place

After eons of waiting: his bronze face returns to mine,

Caught off guard,

I falter,

Stumble,

Stutter,

St-st-st-st-stu-u-u-tt-t--ter-ter-ter,

Painful and awkward.

A small frown emits pity, 

He turns away,

And I,

Smaller than before,

Fall back into the abyss of his shadow.