Poems.

Passing time.

8:17 am. I'm in class and I can't stop thinking about you. You're always on my mind even on my busiest days, or when you don't respond. It's been three weeks since we started talking, ten since I've known you and seventeen since I've known of you. Three weeks isn't a very long time, well twenty-three days. But you're making me fall for you, and I don't think you're going to be there to catch me.

10:04 am. I can't think straight. I don't know if it's you, or the stress of these exams. I hope my writing makes sense soon, right now it's just a big pile of disorganized words. And I'm not okay with it. Things change with passing time.

7:48 pm. It's been a little more than a week since I wrote the first part of this. I still think about him, but not in the same way. We don't talk anymore. I don't know why. It's as if we were a train and the lead car stopped as fast as he could. Then the following train cars got derailed stopping that quickly without notice. I guess it's nice not to have to worry about responding late. But then again, no one really talks to me anyways. I mean, I guess things change with passing time.