Sorrow fills her swollen heart.
Tears fall from her eyes,
With every droplet, her smile dies.
The pain radiates off her balled up body.
She whimpers on the ground,
Mourning for my past owner.
I'm like a picture frame,
Holding her memories in one place.
Never wanting to say goodbye.
The storm has past, yet her heart is still broken.
There isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't think about him.
But she must move on, like he would want her too.
Her smile beams through the darkness.
She's like a train, in a long tunnel.
She must keep going, and leave the past in the past.
May the tears still fall from her eyes, but she is a bald eagle.
And I will be her big red leather jacket,
to keep her warm in the cold.
This poem is modeled/inspired by The Mirror by Sylvia Plath
