it’s still a shock to her, how much weight she’s lost.
and the vacant look in her eyes… how much it’s cost
to reintroduce herself to a smile. that was what broke
the tears the other day; a smile in a mirror let her know
she was alive. she takes shuddering breaths now,
and when she realized she’d been missing, she found
a new being and a new path to run along.
the window has wept for her misconceptions-
all it could do for the hours, a simple condensation,
for her to feel when cold hand met cold glass.
she would waste away staring, time so fast
she swore it rolled to fade her memory to
tolerance remembered. all she could do
was pick a reflection that would blur her
terribly broken eyes, and supersede trails
of dripping rain to synthesize life.
it’s one or two times she’s blinked since then
and shutter breaths, photos to remind her
to live. there are four panes, and several seperate
frames and countless trailings down to meet
the ground. she longs to join, but she’ll turn away
and wait, or run. either way, the window will cease
weeping but will always wait for her return.