Blue lines around grey pottery,
empty containers full of air.
Spices perched on the shelf;
mocking,
staring at the lone figure at the counter,
whispering together.

The setting sky darkens
the cat begs for food,
the cat is fed,
and the figure is alone once more.

My words half-formed in my mouth,
a subtle taste of what is on the paper.
Gliding across the thin black lines is my pen,
creating words and phrases I have yet to say.

Standing.
I am standing.
A pane of glass separates us.
Her pupils are slits,
staring up at me expectantly.
A bird captures her vision.
They drift up to me.
Her eyes are wild,
they are wild in a domestic environment.
I am still staring at her.
She's still staring back.
I reach for the door handle,
and her eyes become domestic again.

I remember
that once
my 9th grade math teacher;
he was in a poor family,
and he couldn't have a coat.
"I didn't let the cold bother me."

I remember
on a cold day
when I could see vapor puffs from my nose
I was standing there
and refused to let the cold bother me.

Get over me,
because I'm not worth it.

I'm not worth it,
because I broke your heart,
because I feel so bad about it,
because it's been 5 months,
because I can't accept myself.

You should get over it,
because I'm not the best person you'll meet,
because you're only 15,
because life must go on,
because lamenting won't get me back,
BECAUSE IT'S BEEN 5 MONTHS.

Life wont stop revolving,
even if your world feels like it has.