Seed in the Shadows

In seventh grade’s uncertain glow, She sat outside where shadows grow. Backpacks slumped, the sunlight waned, While restless truths could not be named. A thought slipped free, both shy and sly, A quiet murmur: I think I’m bi. The friend leaned close, her gaze intent, Questions sharp as the day was spent. How do you know? Does a girl’s soft face Haunt your mind in a secret place? She shook her head, though deep inside, The truth stirred fierce, refused to hide. Two girls in Python’s tented gloom, One kissing the other’s skin in bloom— A spark had flared, both hot and sweet, A memory time would not defeat. Curious—nothing more, the claim, A verdict wrapped in quiet shame. Yet there beneath that fading sun, Her truth had bloomed—its fight begun.