Once upon on a time, I had feelings.
And now it has drained.
Once upon times I was really happy,
And now it has declined.
Once upon a time I was yours,
And now I became a writer.

do you still love me
do you still love m
do you still love
do you still lov
do you still lo
do you still l
do you still
do you stil
do you sti
do you st
do you s
do you
do yo
do y
do
d
di
did
did y
did yo
did you
did you e
did you ev
did you eve
did you ever
did you ever l
did you ever lo
did you ever lov
did you ever love
did you ever love m
did you ever love me

Bathrooms became sanctuary in high school;
with tear stained countertops,
gossip soaked walls.
Even the constipated souls
had motion.

Pressing their hands against the ceramic demilune sinks
they would let their tears flow like water through the faucet,  
until they found comfort in the arms of another.

Hours spent before, between and after classes
they found comfort and friends
in the conversation that flowed in the bathroom.

Checking themselves over and over again
with the reassuring voices, “you look great” from behind.
Some walk in and hide behind the door of the lavatory stalls,
flushing away sadness,
and washing on a smile on to their face.

Like the granite in the slabs, the memories made
will will be hard to wear off.