On my desk, sits a vase, red
The flowers, once given, long dead
The vase, now covered in dust
Made of glass, will never rust
Long-standing, sturdy, true
Emitting a strong red hue
You admire the glass, push it right then left
A gift you gave, now bereft
Soon, you push it toward the ledge
It leaves the desk, over the edge
Landing on the floor, in jagged shards
Cutting my feet, leaving scars
goodbye
Platform Goodbyes
The train pulls away
I wave goodbye
I smile as you leave
So you don’t see me cry
The train picks up steam
Rolling down the tracks
Taking you away
But may bring you back
I stay on the platform
Holding it together
Knowing you need this
To make you better