With your kiss
You send me to oblivion
With your kiss
You make me weak in the knees

How warm you feel in my mind.

With your kiss
Your eyes burn into my mind
With your kiss
I feel arms

I feel the arms of a wooden chair
I feel the hard cold truth
Glass

Just a picture
Just a smile
Just a person
Unaffected by the touch of my lips
The stare of my eyes
The trickle of my tears

But your kiss is still there
Please
Just let it stay there

Miss Elliot is not just a single mom

Miss Elliot is not just white trash

Because Miss Elliot must stay calm

In the lunchroom, though she grins wide, she’ll crash


In the West End High lunchroom peak hour

Miss Elliot, our warrior stands strong

"You ugly white trash," they scream at the door

But she keeps quiet, she won't yell you're wrong


At home, she has a little one to watch

She packs her bag, cleans off her recipe

She claws in her mind for hope hard to catch

As she quietly gives us a whisper



"So what will it be

Chris, Molly, Rudy?"

Give me a little twinkle in your eye
Show me a little shake on your hips
Sing with a giggle, a brazen laugh
But nothing will be bright as a smile on stage

Give me a little hug when I cry
Show me your warm, calloused hands
Whisper to me lines of comfort
But nothing will be as loving as a warm smile shining down to me

Give me trust! Care! Love!
Show me arms stretched out, trusting and holding me at the same time
Scream from the top of your lungs, "I'm your guardian, your parent!"
But nothing will ceases my tears as quickly as a smile, expressing, with a curve of your lip
How much love exists

Strange, an idol, an obsession, created by a crinkle of the eyes and the curve of a lip
Subtle, bright, brilliant, the thing that keeps the relationship intact
Existing
But forgotten, as you want to be a cool kid
Consumed by apathy
The need to show happiness
Gone

How does one compare Hollywood to her?
What part of their dull inconsistency
Or pretentious shallow vague grandeur?
My adult lover, stars be infantry
How does one compare opera to them?
Her voice a hymn, a melody with prose
Their voice of shrill screeching and sticky phlegm
They stumbled with mere age while she rose
How does foolish romance compare to us?
What part of the mechanical routine
Of repeated phrases and ugly fuss
To our devotion they are obscene
My lover is eternal her name .com
And for her I serve to forever embalm

Ms. Lindsey , you call yourself a bae
But you hide the tears on a paper napkin at lunch
Overall your overalls can't cloak your depression,
Your feelings of uselessness,
Your broken smiles, and detest of your ex


Kids no longer shoot paper ball at the teachers, afraid to see you crumble
Girls no longer roll their eyes as you compliment their hair
Fear creeps up people's spine, but not the way Mrs. Rogers does it
Don't you see?
Don't you that we're harming your happiness?

The quiet girl with a book in her nose approaches you
After all, she's nosy
And she asks you, "What's wrong? Why are you crying? Are you okay?"
You smile that same broken smile, laugh, and say, "Don't fall in love, ever.
People are only out to hurt people."
The next day you were gone

Ms. Lindsey, you never came back
But we found your folder showing us your hours worth of lesson plans
In the end our ignorance and judgement taught us that there is more people than meets the eye
Your lessons on the solar system struck us and are embedded
Your broken smiles taught us even the broken can function