The shower is her therapist -spilling tears all over her body, the way her heart aches to, but her eyes lack to in capacity. She combs her dark hair while she hums an old My Chemical Romance song,
When you go, don't ever think I'll make you try to stay
Gusts of wind come in through the window to remind the foggy glass that it will soon dissipate -that there is a world beyond the dewy structure. She massages the shampoo in her hair with enough strength to try to cleanse away the dirt, and thoughts.
in the morning I'll be off to find another way
She steps out of the shower and wipes off the fog of the double mirror above the sink and stares for a moment and proceeds to grab her tooth brush. Simply brushing her teeth.
The hurt isn't enough anymore to think of it as a metaphor, or anything other than what it is -it's not erasing the taste of him out of her mouth, it's not cleansing away the remains of broken innocence she gave him. That's all over now -he doesn't own that part of her anymore.
a good for nothing, I don't know.
Her face she washes with "Let The Good Times Roll," a face-wash that supposedly smells like caramelized popcorn -she hates popcorn, but she loves the smell of the Lush product; of course, she refuses that it smells anywhere similar to the corn-popped snack.
She throws on a maroon lace bralette and matching skivvies, and slips into an oversized Hanes white t-shirt that she probably purchased at the supermarket as a pack of five, and basks in the feeling of purity and freedom. She looks into the old-fashioned mirror that sits upon her dresser and puts on her retail store bought diamond earrings and $7 Walmart tree necklace and tries to give herself a smile. She's always been one with nature but like an autumn leaf, she drifted wherever the wind, or rather, he would take her. But he's gone now, and the necklace reminds her that she was always rooted -she just expanded her branches a little too far.
I don't love you like I did yesterday.
She takes a seat at her laptop that she worked hard to earn every penny for, and decides she's going to write about this girl she knows, this girl she is falling in love with again. Because even if nobody else does, she see's the beauty in herself -and she deserves to be written down.
And thats the origin of this poem.
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