funny what people say when they realize they trust youMature

what if she hadn't made it?
i don't know.
i just don't know
so, to the Little Train:



she says it like i won't notice,
thin veneer of casualty

in a quiet voice:
"I couldn't try out because 
I was hospitalized for a week. 
I cut too deep by accident."

and i don't react, 
just keep on talking, 
even though i want to say, 
i know what the pain's like 
show me your scars because i have mine too 

and i have the bizarre urge
to drape a blanket around her shoulders
and tell her that it's okay, 
we both made it after all

but i can't,
and i don't.

i've never had this happen to me before. 

a lot of lost love
and friends who resist, 
but not this. 

not someone who understands
and i want to ask 
were you depressed too?
were you not brave enough to tell anyone like me? 

but i can't, 
because it's not my right, 
and she's told me enough already. 

the least i can do is respect that. 

i look at her, 
small in stature, 
hands stained with paint
just like mine are, 
sitting in art class like i do
every single saturday, 

and i don't know what to think. 

so i just talk,
talk about anything else. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed