black lines under her eyes

tear stained pillow by the end of the night

and the smell of his cologne

lingering in the air for only a fraction of a second longer

she waits 

painfully

for the day that she can let go and run

out of the dark mass some call heartbreak

when she can faithfully proclaim

that she will start the next day

and end it with a dry pillow in sight

 

but in the end she knows

brilliant time will pass and days will fly and 

by the end of the night

back will be the black lines