I walk down the hallway
past where you sit
on the bench beside the
science classrooms.
I do not speak;
head proud,
I move neither slowly
nor with haste,
yet the coffee which
keeps me moving
spills o'er my hand.
Still I walk on.
The twin tears running down
my face
are products of the biting wind
outside.
They are not for you;
I have lost the ability
to cry for you who were
my closest friends.
Thus I walk past,
your forms superimposed
in black and purple
against my memory,
to the locker I didn't need to visit.