Rightfully Refunded

Below is a poem I've been working on recently. I wrote it one day in English class after my teacher read the poem Deer Hit by Jon Loomis and instructed us to write.
Brushed it up a bit afterwards, and here's what I came up with:



She doesn’t expect
to be repaid,
for the things she does.
They didn’t offer her
a silver platter,
or even a silver nickel.
The love she administers
isn’t contingent on
exchanges like that.

Pay and Respect
are two separate notions.
She grew accustomed to
the latter, it was all they
could give in terms
of reciprocation.
Respect.

And Smiles.
The kind that caused tiny
creases to break from the sides
of their glistening eyes.

She looked into those gems,
and before they could say
just how proud they were,
She knew.

So when he left,
when he picked up his bag,
and glanced for a moment,
so quick, an Olympic calibrated
clock couldn’t have caught it,
She was
Stunned.

A doe paralyzed by the blinding
glare of betrayal,
of lies,
of the realization that
nothing in this world can be
properly returned,
rightfully refunded.