And in the last few days
when the adrenaline soured and the blood left my stomach
and my mind whispered out from beyond the doors of stone
softly murmuring
“what about your final?”
Through the counting of bullets
the gentle monotony of lead and brass
each tender hug rejoined to the wind
each passing kiss another missing moment
this one thought persists – “will they give me an A?”
And I hate myself
And I hate you
And I love you
And that is the shaking of a home
Razed, razed
To its very foundation
