to the orphanage

one empty suitcase,
and a room full of memories.
a couple of minutes to pack,
and leave my life behind.

split-second judgments
on the value of toys
and the importance
of things like clothes.

everything is a memento,
birthday presents,
fading faces in frames,
my chair, my window, my bed.

the last things i pack,
are the few last tears that drop
on top of a picture of my parents,
whom i'll never see again.

the small

we lay in bed,
silence as our blanket,
hiding daggers of thought
cloaked beneath pillowcases.

my insides hurt,
everything hurt,
and i wanted him
to be a little closer.

with my lips near his ear,
i whispered to him,
begged him to take tomorrow off
so we could talk it all over.

he grumbled, and said 'fine,
but my boss will be pissed.'
i kissed him and fell asleep,
as my alarm clock read 9:11.