I bet your hardwood floor
Still supports that shirt.
Your maroon one I wore
After losing my skirt.

Now, your roommate is telling you
To help clean up your place.
Blaring "R.I.P. 2 My Youth".
Searching for what's been misplaced.

The dusty floorboards creak
Under the weight of it all.
It's only been one week
Since intimate nightfall.

You're wearing ***** clothes;
And you can't bear to do laundry.
Because once you start a load,
You'll have to accept the palm trees.

The desert that awaits you,
And the life you're leaving behind.
Telling me that, if we bump into
Each other, we won't be ill-timed.

I bet that maroon shirt is precisely
Where I left it.
Before you decisively
Determined we were unfit.

Lay down by midnight.
Take my phone off of "silent";
Just in case he calls.

I knew she planned on staying.
When she unpacked her belongings.
Mia told me she wasn't playing.
This time, she would cause the falling.

She woke me up the first night,
After he ran away.
Mia's chapped lips whispered our old times,
She reminded me of tooth decay.

For the next few days, Mia was my shadow.
Her doe-eyes trailed my every course.
Waiting patiently for me to plateau,
Before attacking without remorse.

Mia told me she was mending my cuts,
My battered heart, and my sliced legs.
She was making me whole with every hiccup.
He may have left, but she was here to stay.

We held hands throughout the store.
She helped me buy my favorite treats.
Binging together before locking the door.
Purging never tasted so sweet.

Mia held my hair and my pink tongue.
Her fingernails made my throat bleed.
Convinced me secrecy made this fun.
Our kneeling prayers were a mystery.

She wiped my tears with her acidic hands,
And whispered how much she missed me.
Mia uttered how only she would understand
My longing and misery.

I feel I am a true educator
Standing in front of my class,
And the time slips away.

A teacher when I fake a smile
For the sake of my students;
Unwilling to cry in front of them.

An instructor at heart
When I am willing to
Show that I am human as well.

A teacher in vulnerability.
Personable in profession.
Tenderhearted in being.

This year has taught me
How to find love
In the spaces between fingers,
In the shadows across faces,
In heated cars,
And in cool sheets.

This year has taught me
How to let love go.
When my second love
Kissed another.
When my almost love
Fled the state.

This year has taught me
How to love myself.
To cherish my laughter lines,
And each bite of food.
To soak in hot water,
And splurge every so often.

This year has taught me
How to hope.
Dickinson reminded me
That “’hope’ is a thing with feathers”.
My middle name is Hope.
Therefore, I will hope once more.

This year has taught me
That much does not last.
Shoulders to lean on are not constant.
Mortal forevers are
Just that:
Mortal.

It is still dark
When driving through the
Morning haze.

On my way to
A job that doesn’t
Feel like “work “.

Thinking of you,
And the way your lips
Fit with mine.

The sky turns pink.
I recall sleeping
Next to you.

The clouds are orange.
Remember my nails
On your back?

Atmosphere bright.
Asking, “What is love,
Exactly?”

The sun blinding.
Blazing I miss yous;
Bright goodbyes.

I’m at work now.
Fatigued; lack of sleep
In my eyes.

Up all night
Since you broke it off
Yesterday.

I’ll brew coffee
For myself; not two
This morning.

The sky is calm -
Ordinary day.
Naked eyes.

I miss you like
You missed the desert.
No surprise.

If I packed all my things
Would you hold my hand again?

If I showed up unannounced
Would you let me in?

If I called in a week
Would you let me hear your voice?

If I bought a plane ticket
Would you allow me the pleasure?

I was beginning to get used
To the thought of you.

But, currently, I'm confused.