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