I catch myself thinking of the winter, in blue.
Your face: it is only a picture now that sits upon my mantle. This home is lonely. You would not understand the way an empty house feels
. Especially when your heart is empty too.
I moved in here last year after getting a job
at the local school. I thought maybe a move across country
would help to change my perspective. Cheer me up.
There was always something about the Oregon coast that pulled me. Always something that lured me, baited me, hooked me
into thinking that nothing could go wrong
is beautiful, but it is not the coast. You dreamed of Eugene. I dreamed of Florence
. Everything goes wrong here
There is a boy in my class that has a face like yours. Soft. Understanding. Doe eyes
. Brown eyes. Cheek bones. Jaw bone
. Lips like honey
. You would not understand.
He is sixteen and scared
of the future. Just like you were
. Just like you still are
. I wish I could tell him that it all works out okay if he just lends himself a few more years. But who am I to talk to him of love and life
and that oh-so-dirty word future when I am just his sociology
Did you ever feel like maybe I was your teacher too?
Look, maybe I cannot write what I feel
as well as I used to. Maybe I just need to talk to you rather than writing these words on legal paper, when all the while I should be grading essays.
Should I tell this boy that he goes on to be successful in life and love just like you? That after having someone break his heart, he breaks someone else's and will send her off to live
in a lonely northwestern town? Does it end up like this for every one like you?
When I too long have looked upon your face,
I catch myself thinking of a past I can never reclaim. And the future that I will have just to compensate for it.