Jovad Poem by Nikia Tate

A little shorter than most, his presence was above all. Quickly classified as an omega, well liked by everyone, especially the ladies. Kind and humorous in my eyes, and every bit of what my young heart desired. Coming into class to find his head down and energy as dark as the crown of waves atop his head, I became saddened. The rumors had spread of his devastation, soon to become a teenage father. I offered him an my ear, and through his turmoil he offered me a smile. Time passed and the encounters became frequent, a motivation for my timeliness to the institution. A stolen shoe, and a grand production, if you will. My leg over his shoulder as he, gracefully slipped his temporary prize back onto my foot. The glares I received that day puzzled and amused me. The bell rings signaling our tardiness to the next period. His choice of poetry, which was recited after others had taken their turns, and attempted to gain laughter from the class with this assignment, stirred many things within. My name repeated many times in the poem, tastefully suggestive, at least to an inexperienced girl like me. 'Nikki! ! ', bellowed out at the end, which caused everyone to turn and grin slyly in my direction. I did not mind. The end of this journey soon to come, a note in a locker asking for a memory, that would be obliged with the utmost care, attention, comfort and gentleness. Two separate roads, and an insecure answer to a question I had longed for over the course of four years. And that was it. My first love. His image caught my eye many years later, as it graced magazines and promotional flyers. Life happening in between, I still hear him call my name, 'Nikki! '.