by Cassandra Latisse

Created on: December 24, 2009

dear Maria,

you're a blank book,
ready to be written in
by insensitive boys
and insecure friends
and people who say they love you
but you know they don't.

dear Maria,

your eyes are filled with sadness
they are glassy orbs
and I can see the sun
reflected in them
because you wish to see it someday
you want to feel something again.

dear Maria,

you're rifling through your notebooks
looking through songs about boys
and you think to yourself
whether you can really support
what you feel is the weight of the world
on your shoulders

dear Maria,

you don't really know what they mean
when they say, "time waits for no man,"
but the one thing you do know
is that if you turn over the hourglass
you'll always have a bit left
but your fingers are weak; you can't do it

dear Maria,

count me in.

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