Rock Glen Radley Road

Rock Glen Radley Road

Where the linens draping from the cracked windowsill

brought the warm breeze to brush against her cheek.

As she sunk into the plush couch that seemed impossible to remove herself from

at 3 am after binge-watching true-crime documentaries,

somehow simultaneously stuffed with missing Taki flakes,

she forgot she was eating.

The marble countertop where she felt the safest

filling her stomach with the comfort she now longs for.

The laughs, the messes, the missing plate, once resting,

She was too afraid to admit she broke

She was sprinting away from popping grease,

flying out of a castor-iron skillet, not caring what was in her way.

The mirror in the bathroom that once watched a little girl

Shove toilet paper in her bra before the bus stop,

eventually witnesses a young woman who gained enough spark to not wonder anymore what people thought.

The faces within the solid brick foundation

that came and go,

Some, more painful than others.

all to end up completely erased

Hallow and vacant.