I can see myself doing it better tonight,
the face that contorts under my sadness
how it looks when I am curled up
around the end of the table,
trying not to cry or shift too loudly.
I am sitting there alone some days.
then I can only be myself, and while
it is easy and I can get up on my own from it
it does no shift the sadness anyplace.
when I get up it is to be alone
in the other room is no one
and I have no unread messages.
so sometimes she sits there
and other times she moves.
sometimes someone other than herself
goes to find her, and for a while she is
found. which is nice for a while but
back at the table are all my pencils and books
and after a time I miss them.
and a hallow, yes I mean wind in the trees says
"I have to go back now, I'm must be left
do not love me and let me go." can and does
shift my spine when I say so; as I must.
and from there I trek back to my place
at the end of the table. so that I can write again.