Drip.
Drip.
Tears drip from puffy eyes
and I from this blue plastic chair.
Memories tickle my insides,
But I can’t even fake a laugh.
Photos cling to the wall, staring at me,
Held there by flimsy pieces of tape.
The lighting in this room makes no sense,
Everything about it is wrong.
Yet when I find my reflection
In the full length mirror,
The glare hits me perfectly,
As if that’s how I feel.
Oh, but it lies..
It’s an ugly sort of lie,
The kind that makes you
Search for the truth.
It’s an ugly sort of beauty,
The kind that it hurts to look at.
It’s an ugly sort of light,
An ugly way to be feeling,
And an ugly place to be in.
Someone says tearfully,
“He’s gone Sophie”
And I whisper a reply of
“I- I’ll find him”
As if he’s only lost in the mall.
Feeling as though I’m stuck in reverse,
My eyes burn and my throat is sore.
You never were fond of good-byes.
I’ll be reminiscing until the thoughts
Leave wet mascara stains on my cheeks.
The memories are fading too fast,
Or perhaps not fast enough,
One lonely tear drop at a time.
Drip.
Drip.