The evening cast a warm glow peeking through the curtains.
Dionne Warwick’s “Make It Easy On Yourself”
Hissed and popped as the needle danced across the record.
Its sorrowful tune echoed the room, looping
The words easy on yourself
As life stood still
And time grew short.
With a trashbin stuffed with crumpled up letters,
A phone shoved in the side pouch
Of a bookbag buzzed. It eventually
And the music grew louder
There she laid---
Her arms and legs sprawled out
While her body slowly sunk, being one with the bed
Her lips quivered,
Unraveling an ocean of warm tears. The room
Seemed blurred out, but her eyes
Still captured posters, the ceiling fan,
The fairy lights.
Her cotton candy hair rustled against her cheeks---
Sticking to her as the tears continued to fall.
Then, the phone
Buzzes again, this time longer
As it competed with the song.
Cut up pictures of
Burnt out, faded faces
Decorated the floor, and the girl
Softly wept, sniffled, and let out a sigh.
She couldn’t stop weeping.
As life stood still,
And time grew short,
She knew she had to make it easier on herself.