May 24


the pain comes in
crashing, violent waves that
leave my body broken,
my lungs heaving as i taste
the saltwater on my cheeks.

i sit out on the roof,
writing letters to wherever
you are now, because writing
is supposed to help.

i still feel your
heartbeat, steady under
mine, so how can you be
gone so quickly?

my fingers fold the
scraps of paper that i collect
into butterflies and cranes until
my art teacher tells me that
class ended 6 minutes ago.

the tears that have been
held back the whole day are 
released into my sheets with
sharp, heavy sobs.

i scream into my pillow
because i prayed to god,
i prayed, i prayed and he 
never listens, does he?

we are nothing, you were nothing,
but, oh, you were everything.