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 Stopped, And the music grew louder And louder.
There she laid--- Her arms and legs sprawled out While her body slowly sunk, being one with the bed Finally.
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 Missing, 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.