Writing

it is dark at night 

not the type of dark 
i may envy 

the type that frightens me 

the unknowing of the present 

We peeled off your name tag on your cubby.

We cleared it out. You took your stuff home.

It's empty now.

Lonely and sad and cold.

I hate it.

Your name is no longer there.

Everyone is pushing us into next year.

Pushing, pulling

All the time.

The eighth graders left yesterday.

I went to their graduation.

I tried to smile.

I cried a lot.

I have a lot of in between people.

The people I don't consider to be friends

But they're not my enemies, either.

The people I don't care about enough

To be awkward around

But also can't really goof off with

I realized recently

That there’s the family you don’t have a choice in -

Your biological parents, siblings, cousins -

And then there’s the family you do.

The family you share no blood with

But choose anyway.

i say goodbye and yet i find myself thinking about you again

i think about you in the weeping willow

singing a song of emotions that i do not know

i wonder if given the opportunity