There is a potted rose with a compact mirror, makeup smeared on the top
Half -eaten chocolate mousse cake, crumbled up tissues
Half smoked joints, ashtrays full of dried leaves
Worn down notebooks, a poetry book covered in scribbled notes
A table covered in crystals, dried paint, and broken wood pieces
Fluorescent lights sparkling in the window with a stack of half written storylines
Nights turning into days,
Turning into nights once again
Songs that make you cry but not cleansing
Time stopped on the clock, although time never stops right?
The future seeming so far off in the distance, that the past could go along for the ride
TV playing in the background, music playlist drowning out the sound
This is your life, broken into disarray
You remember a line Joan Didion once wrote
All the love you have ever felt still lives inside of you
That is why you continue to stare at your phone aimlessly,
Doing unsatisfactory and non-fulfilling activities
Constantly wishing you were over someone,
Realizing, too late, that the love that remains for them
Can never surpass the love you have for yourself
Loving someone that does not love you is heartbreaking,
Not loving you,
Is true betrayal
