"Tomorrow you will be alright"
I comforted myself a near midnight.
Dragging the towel, moist from the sink
under my lower lids, I did never blink.
Makeup and water or makeup and tears
some may never now, as I
that lonesome, quite autumn night*
Though I lastly found with my poorly sight
that under my lids there were, well how to describe?
- I lowered the towel and looked even twice
Nothing as makeup were pouring down my eyes
but a still, matte
constant.
Sorrow
Now what about tomorrow?
I blinked and I shrank as I lowered my head in the sink.
Oh but never were I capable of washing off ink.