She said not to use I
or very, or stuff,
thing was useless
and it all led to excuses.
So he drew it in the sand,
and left it for everyone to find
only to discover us never held the I, just the you.
I asked for you to be kind.
I left, in a haste that was paved in bruises
and a broken heart watching a video
when your eyes glittered up to mine,
and the lurching of my chest gave away what was lost.
I discovered I when you filled the space with the sand he drew in.
and the teacher would say the lines were too long,
but it never made sense.
The rest of us grew to replace the paper and the pen
but the tears still fell, just only on a difference surface,
but you drew on my reflection with permanent conviction.
I begged you to be kind.
Sensibility allows me to pause my thumb over send,
and my lungs draw in the necessary breath to stay this execution.
I wish nothing more for a wave to erase this message,
I wish you fell behind.
And sometimes I think I was born this way,
delicate pieces that shattered in the doctors hand,
hastily put back together with extra pieces left behind,
you always made sure you had a light.
A test with no questions,
I was wasted when they set the time.
I remember the stories you told of me
before the coroner slid his fingers over my eyes.
When did this happen?
Right in this moment when I found the I
in the sand, when I paid the fines of your lies.
I only asked for you to be kind.