i sit in library at school with her

my hands full of scribbled science index cards

and we laugh at how i say the words

and how she never answers right

but when she calls me at night

while i brush my wild hair

she sobs to me about the friend that lashed out

the boy who said he loved her

and how the world never stopped

her heart is paper

and everyone knows how to strike a match

~ yet she still rises from the ashes every day

I have never know a better Phoenix