To the boy named Armo

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Sitting silently,
with the back of my hand
under my chin

My eyes falling
despite the loud music
all around me.

I must have not come,
I regretfully say
under my sleepy breath.

I took a deep sigh,
felt my head
trembling in boredom.

One, two, three,
how many times I yawned,
I couldn’t count it exactly.

Then there came
another set of band,
the one we’ve been waiting.

The front man says hello,
the drums on the beat,
the guitars go rocking.

My eyes flew open
at the sight of you,
you kept strumming the guitar.

While the vocalist sang,
you did your thing,
and you amazed me.

Wow —
was the only words
I could utter.

You look so great,
play so great,
head bang so great.

I couldn’t take
my eyes off of you —
you were all that mattered.

Your black shirt,
your black pants,
and your long black hair.

The way you felt the music,
the way those deep dimples
marked their place.

I didn’t know
that you exist,
but now I do.

Your name
was a beautiful song
to my ears.

Armo
that’s how they call you,
but I’d like to call you mine.

But no matter how I wish
the night wouldn’t end,
the show ended.

You all turned
your back at us
after the farewell song.

But until now
I can still picture you
in my head.

One day,
someday,
I’d see you again.

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