the first hard lesson
life had to teach me
was death
the way failure looked in a bronze casket
somewhere around sophomore year
my naivete decided the opposite of dying
was the crescendo of falling in love
and i’ve been doing it regularly ever since
but no matter how many elevators i ride up
to rose petal scattered penthouse suites
my father is still dead
and i will always have a reason to leave
a place to be early in the morning
until my grave decides it is tired of waiting
the pictures inside my locket weep