i still remember the nice girl
in my third grade class.
she had glasses, pigtails
and a smile made of sugar.
i grew up alongside feelings of worthlessness
and i swung on the railings of the stairs as i told her
in my eight year old, undeveloped articulation
that i wasn't a good person.
we weren't best friends
but she stared at me with a face of contemplation wise beyond her years.
she told me about first grade
when she sat on the forlorn benches at the playground kicking the pebbles beneath her feet as she watched the other kids play.
she told me that she wished she could have been
outgoing, sociable, exuberant.
she told me that i helped her become more comfortable
and spoke in poetic phrasing as she mentioned my bright smile-
a feature which actually belonged to her.
by no means did this change the way i saw myself
but it made me forget the dark cloud which loomed above
even if it was only for a second.
