college, the educates.

Educators are trying to educate us on being educated.

My head hurts but my heart is swelling and I accidentally said I was going home today, 

by home I meant dorm and by dorm I meant

that place I live in.

You don't know lonely like the bottom of a food container does.

Like lost keys and forgotten keys and keys that are on the other side of the lock.

The volleyball court seems spacious without its usual visitors and the boy that called me unteachable.

I never wanted to learn from him, though.

I love the smell of the shuttle seats,

the way the trees hang over our backs and remind us that home was a high, dry wasteland

with nothing but love lingering between people.

But I already love the girl next to me

and the boy who had a say in which pillows I put on the sheets.

The pictures on the wall remind me of the boat that sailed last weekend

the days that linger for too many hours

the nights that don't last long enough

watching The Notebook

not crying while watching The Notebook

they said college would be sleepless

but my bed feels better than my open eyes

and loud music

and hallway lights that never go out.

I'm alone

with photographs dangling over my eyelids

of last week's adventures.

but I'm alone

and it's home.