That Girl Poem by Alexandra Yeboah

I was always that girl
you passed by in the halls.
As I struggled to pile my books
into my locker,
I watch you flirt with a handful
of girls in the hallway;
blond hair,
white smiles,
slender legs.

I was always that girl
you borrowed
math notes from in class.
You smiled graciously
as I handed them over,
but you couldn’t seem
to remember my name...

“Andrea? ” was your first guess.
“Alicia? Amanda? ”
Nowhere close.
I shook my head and laughed
like it was no big deal.
“It’s Alexandra, ” I correct you.

I was always that girl with
the bony arms,
teacher’s pet,
too quiet,
too goofy,
too religious,
all of which was never your type.

Would you have talked to me
if my skirts had been shorter,
my hips more wider,
my bust bigger,
if I had placed my hand
on your forearm and
laughed at your every joke?

Or would I have had to dye my hair blond,
march by you seven times a day,
wear gold earrings that swallowed my ear,
attach a flurry of colourful
ribbons at my waist?


So high school is over,
and I managed to escape
your notice all through
the years.

But here we are once again
in the university campus building,
same place, same time.
I manage to catch your eye,
you look for a brief second.

But then a group of girls
passes in front of me,
and the next time I look,
you are walking the other way.
I guess you would only
ever think of me as
just that girl.