a/n: hiya. well, first off - happy friday! i really hope you enjoy this drabble-esque attempt at...poetry? i wrote it last winter, after a night of ice skating with my friends - and somehow, i got this. i apologize for the seriously random setting. and then of course, i went and twisted it into camp rock. (?) why tess, i'm not sure. (might she have a heart!?)
thanks to: LaPaige, for giving me that little self-esteem boost to put this up here. it wouldn't be up if not for her! also, i want to mention that my inspiration for this format (although, i really didn't do it justice) was the one and only D R O W N - I N - S E Q U I N S, who rocks this fandom to bits and pieces with her beautiful "photograph" style of writing.
it starts to fall apart a few stanzas before the end - but i hope you like it anyway. let me know what you think? :)
--
finish line
--
shrieks echo like
lost cares and grains of sand
gritty between your toes
cheeks flush and you are laughing, laughing
(you've always been a good actress)
too loud, too harsh, so gone
but he, he tugs on your hand and says,
"come with me?"
and it's not really a question because
he's already pulling you along and your answer is
y e s.
--
you shiver like
electricity and currents and hand in hand
as he whispers,
"c'mon tess, let's race."
and he grins because you can't say no, you can't
but s h e is gliding over now, smiling - beaming - h a p p y
and you can't say yes, you can't
so you find yourself saying,
"i'll watch."
for a moment, there's a lightning bolt question
marring his ( s t a i n e d ) glass features
but he looks at her and it passes and he too, is
h a p p y
--
you skate away to the center of the rink
and wonder how the iceprincess
fell for the s u n, her boy, h i m.
you stand aside as he yells,
" G O ! "
and he runs like music,
with her trailing, trailing behind.
s-t-a-c-c-a-t-o steps and legato legs
and you don't think you've ever seen anything more
b e a u t i f u l
but you don't chase because it's
unladylike
(and yet he fell for mitchie anyway)
he pushes through crowds
and it's like a chain - you watch him - he'll watch her
but he looks back and smiles and it's
heart-stopping, breath-taking, wrong.
--
he spins and falters, head thrown back
laughlaughlove.
he swoops by; chuckle, pause
looks past you
behind you
at h e r.
and you never appreciated poetry until now
soaring, twirling, spiraling
because his movements speak in
stanzas ; sonnets ; free-verse
( f r e e - f a l l )
and he waits for her
arms open
("i'll catch you, mitch")
and she giggles as
she rams into him, pushing him back as they spin
t o g e t h e r
their feet defy gravity
(and it's the most out of control they'll ever be)
her laugh like a black&white film
his smile like a symphony.
--
you force yourself to look
a w a y
but she is calling your name
tess, tess, tess
then she is at your side
and you wonder why you can't be the
r o y a l b i t c h
you always have been
because it would be so easy
to lash out, smirk, scream
b r e a k her.
but you see him out of the corner of your eye
and he waves, hand high in the air
(like a schoolboy)
and you think maybe it's because
he's the only one who paid more attention to you
when you weren't a bitch.
--
so your smile slides on like plaster
as mitchie says,
"hey tess, did you see who won the race?"
and you bitebitebite your lip
(it tastes like rust and steel and your favorite lipgloss)
as the words sting your tongue and burn your throat
s c a r - y o u r - h e a r t
and you are tess tyler
(so you never lose)
but still, you think of white flags ; defeat
and d e s p e r a t i o n
as you whisper,
"you did, mitchie,
you won."
--
