there is a different kind of heartbreak
a different kind of wonder
in seeing your teacher cry
it brings you to the realization that
they are people too
the first time
I saw my teacher cry was
Fourth grade
she was reading
"Where the red fern grows"
To the class and tears
Pooled in her eyes and dove
Down her face as we
Awkwardly sat in silence because
Adults don't cry
the second time was in 7th grade
english class, a class filled with all of the shitbags
in our grade the students who
just dont care
our teacher broke down
in class one day and proudly proclaimed
that she hated us
before leaving the room
the third time
was in 11th grade
our teacher, a man of mystique
Broke down in class
tears rolled off his face like rain
falling from an oversaturated cloud his
hand covering his face like an umbrella
too small to do anything to protect against the toreeintail downpour
these tears will cause flooding I hope
you have insurance because this damage
is undeniable and contagious
unable to move he stood like a statue
feet planted into the ground you could
practically see the roots growing from his shoes
into the floor the tears
the rain watering this dying tree
he had become our eyes
like birds, watching our home collapse into himself
this is what a broken heart looks like
like the very life you live
the very air you breath
has been sucked out of you
your heart doesn't break
it shatters and you dont cry
you scream you don't live
you die
and realize that teachers
are humans and they
have hearts
that can be broken and eyes
that can fill the ocean
and lives
that are not spoken
YOU ARE READING
the blood of my heart
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry. Some are fun and lighthearted, while others are deep and meaningful. A mixture of spoken word and short poems. I will continue to add poems weekly. My heart is in your hands.
