Today
I wrap my dark coat
tighter around me as
the A+, long lashes, and white smile are buried.
Tarnished with a white scar of
a branch ripping open her
arm as she fell seventeen
feet out of a tree
that for ten years
was the only difference
in our reflections. Hours and hours
the heartbeat taunted me.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
until it blended in with
the ringing in my ears. The sobs of the mother.
The clench of a jaw of the father.
The whimpering of the friends.
The sniffling of the classmates.
My still silhouette on the hill
watching their backs from a distance,
throat squeezing itself shut.
No breath to trigger a cry,
tears streaming in a thin line
down my cheeks, over my jaw, down my neck,
soaking the collar of my dark jacket. One eye mascaraed,
bristles in my hand
I saw the gleam of headlights fade from the window
out of the reflection
in the mirror.
The impatience of the
C cup, clean cuticles, plump lips
running the stop sign.
Blood from her temple running in a thin line
down her cheeks, over her jaw, down her neck
over her shoulder, down her arm
over the scar healed white
now stained
red.
