Sounds Like Paradise

One

The bed next to him will always be empty.

.

He can stand on his desk and cause a fuss

Or take walks out to the old cave

and recite poetry 'till he's blue in the face

Scream it as it echoes off the stone walls.

.

He can turn in all his assignments on time

Or spend his nights crying awake

and his days dreaming of a better future

and behind closed eyelids will his best friend back into existence.

.

He can write line after line of poetry

Rip it all up and throw it away

Pace his room as the words won't come

Because all he can hear in his head is Shakespeare recited in that beloved voice

And kick at his trunk 'till his foot is blue because it never used to be the writing that was the problem.

.

He can write lines and lines and lines of poetry

and cry and cry

And stuff all of the sheets under his mattress because they're not going anywhere

Not getting read anymore because his voice burned out with that faithful plea for

“Oh Captain, my Captain!”

.

But the bed next to him will always be empty.