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.

Take up a pen
Decide now to check the contents of the kitchen cabinets
Struggle to remember what food you like
Pick something you tried once four months ago
Go to the store
Forget the list, only remember the one thing
Impulsively buy a weeks worth of that one thing
Realize after making it and eating it why you only tried it once
You now have six more days of food you don't like
But you forget to eat one of those days
Realize you don't care about saving money as much as you care about pizza
Buy a lot of pizza
Get acne from eating pizza for two weeks
Cry about it
(Also, food you didn't like sits in the freezer for months before you finally let go of the guilt associated with throwing not expired food away because your parents guilt-tripped you for not eating stuff you didn't like as a kid)

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.