-Cigarette Girl-
There was this hall in school where the bathrooms were always
choked full of smoke and gossip.
I always went to use that restroom, down in F-hall.
Though it always smelt of fresh smoke,
it seemed as though there was nobody in there at any given time.
But today when I opened the squeaky door, I saw a girl sitting on the floor.
I don't remember her face, but her solitude left a portrait
of stained mascara in my head.
She tried hard to not care.
Her eyes, so ready to disengage...
She burns in my memory- the girl smoking on the floor who cared not.
But, whenever I passed by her, she would unconsciously move her bags
and cig butt out of my way. But no, she didn't care.
She tried so hard to not care.
