Once in a while I look back at her;
the girl with stars in her fists,
fingernails rendered ****** by her gnashing teeth
Those oval beds were uniform, honed.
I still wonder whether she truly dared to scatter the light from her palms
or if she let it sink inside and hide with all the other things
she'd ever longed to hold.

Something vile grew, at length,
upon the ending of his gaze
that landed on my mother's smile -
where I would pass my days
I'd walk along the wicked mile
that breached the stones below
I'd find myself upon the steps awhile,
hesitant to go.

I have this craving
for a calm I only get when I'm with you
I have this feeling of pure joy
I can't forget when I'm with you
But now you're gone
and I'm my own
and I feel alone; perhaps it's true
We painted all the pretty pictures
and art is dead without you

I have desires that come with aching
when I wait here for you
building up, becoming better
maybe hating you, too
I have this heartache that I carry
as I walk without you
Now you're gone
and I feel like a stranger; perhaps it's true
And when you left me behind
I didn't stray -  but I am new

Now with all this love
there's resentment - hot and blue
There's a chill in this room that I've become used to
Sometimes I think of what we were
when I was all in with you
Those times are passed, it's in the past
next to the grave I dug to tell this truth.

In school they tell us stories
written by people we must strive to understand:
Emily Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare
Teachers pleading 'pay attention'
always reading
no retention
Still we scrape together
all the pieces of a grade
and some of us walk away knowing
what it's like to be lonely, and hopelessly underpaid.