Teen Ink

     Seconds ago I stood
with your lips to my ear,
the phone cord wrapped around
my index finger, praying
in monotone (not again
not again please not now); today
I am gossamer and
the strangest silence,
staring at the rained-over,
trampled-on
forget-me-nots
bordering the bottom of
your granite-and-marble memorial
(I could run for miles and miles and
never get any farther away from myself
than I am right now)