Poem - Window

 

There's a girl in the corner

Sitting across from where I am.

I see her through the window.

She looks broken

She looks devoid of colour;

Of sentiment; of feeling.

 

She looks up.

Her eyes bore into mine

Black

Nothing in those eyes but

Black sorrow

She looks away

Flushed

with Embarrassment

and perhaps,

Envy?

 

Her eyes examine the room

Girls are chatting

Comparing their outfits, accessories,

UGG boots.

They go about their lives

Without the slightest idea of anyone else's

Problems.

 

She looks on at them,

Yearning.

Desperate for a slice of their lives.

Perfection.

 

She picks up a pen

And looks back into my eyes

She holds my stare with her coal-like gaze

And I feel 

Uncomfortable.

 

She presses the pen into her hand;

Piercing the skin

Mixing ink with blood.

 

I am startled and yet I cannot look away.

 

Her eyes, still trained on mine

I feel a prick in my own hand

I look down and see the crimson blood.

 

I stand.

I try to find the girl sitting in the next room

She has gone.

 

I am against the wall

I look back through the window;

My eyes searching the room

Through the sheet of glass

 

At last,

My eyes rest upon the familiar

Coal-black circles

And I realise

 

The window is a mirror.