i lean over the railing to see
her initials spiraling down the twisted staircase
close cropped haircut from the top
makes me smile
and at the same time i notice
she's standing behind me
close cropped elf
staring down the back of my head
my silent statements drown on twisted staircase
she can't hear what i'm not saying to her
because of all the noise in here
i back out
into impersonal vanilla-filled flowers
and i'm sent
right back out
chasing down the girl who ran
we've got to get out of this
she's got to get out
she got out
i'll remember today as cutting class into slices with her
and chewing reality's numb bones
in our tiny white-bread white-bred teeth
until we were sick to our stomachs with melancholy melodrama
and burning constant invisible tears into the dirt of a tired world
we back in
to imperfection within stiff specificity
trying to hide our sores
even locked into sterile cubicle-boxed minds
we could still soar