Writing

Riding down the winding mountain trail
In an uncomfortable school bus

Listening to Stevie Wonder 
While laughing as we fall out of our seats
From the impact of each pothole

I cried in silence again.

The tears streamed down

And made puddles on my carpet floor

I'm lying on again.

I watched the minutes change again.

There has been something

Building in my throat

For the last few months.

Burning

Needing to say it,

I need to say it,

I can't go forever

Not saying it.

I don't know

What it is

Exactly.

Dear ______ I am sorry.

Dear ______ I have hurt you and I don't know how to stop.

I say often that it is not hard to be kind,

A little girl looked up to the sky 

“So big and far away, it’s like that, why? 

I don’t know why you are 

The way that you are 

All my friends are eighth graders,

Or on the other team.

Aside from two,

Who I hope never tire of me

But probably already have.

All my friends are eighth graders,

Which means all my friends are leaving.