Well, one person will know
the pains of a seriously vulnerable week
tucked deep into the palms of summer.
(My hair was perfect, and my skin
But that soul will soon forget the smell of books and sweaty palms
and the feel of breaking through circumstances.
And then, after the forgetting,
as in the beginning,
it will be me.
I will wear that shirt again
I will walk the steps again
I will be fine,
but my old eyes,
they're getting older and
I am less and less desirable.