by Nina Armstrong

Nina Armstrong is a high school Junior in Southern California. She has been published in “Just Poetry National Poetry Quarterly,” “The Same Literary Magazine,” and “Genre: Urban Arts.” She hopes to continue with writing through college and life.

I, Confidant

With crooked teeth and a salmon smile
Clara Confessed of her rhinoplasty

People tell me their life stories sometimes
They say I have the face of a giver

Michael confessed his habit of cutting
That was under the bleachers at lunchtime

Jackie told me her friends left her alone
Michael uttered the name of his crush (June)

I’ve never made one of them feel better
Not even If I tried, so I listen
To Conner’s miseries and George’s swoons

They confide in me what I fear myself