The Girl in The Window

The girl in the window

Never closes her blinds.

Confident she can’t be seen,

Or tempting onlookers,

She dances in her underwear

And eats with her hands.

She used to make dinner for lovers

In exchange for sweet nothings.

Now she stays up past midnight too often,

Appearing lonely

When the darkness settles.

She used to be young,

Until she found her first gray hair

When she learned love is conditional.

Eyes that once glimmered with faith,

Filled with the haunting despondence

Of a heart-sickend,

Forgotten girl,

Cursed with false promised loves,

Abandoned even by God.

I love her so much it hurts to witness.

Sometimes I daydream about

What it would feel like to fall from the top of the city,

What I would think about on the way down,

How the pressure of the air against my skin

Might feel liberating.

I’m convinced I would float

Until I could fly.

I’m convinced it would hurt less

From the sky

To watch the girl in the window.