I scrub my face. Harsh cloth against a cheek, a forehead, a chin.
For the first time I blush. The red from the cloth scratched onto my cheeks.
I stare. Dark eyes facing myself in the mirror. Lips turn downward.
Lines stretching from eyelids.
“You can’t change your face. You can’t be changed.”
Shaking head. Shaking heart.
When did I become old?
When did I become gray?
-A minute ago-
When does time turn backwards?
Cane pounds the beat of a heavy heart.
The hallway filled years and years.
It enveloped me and took me away.
Disappeared in time.
I originally posted this on my Xanga site, but since it seems to be dying I decided to move it here. Since I had already been using this site and starting to like I made the full move. I didn’t want to write my personal stuff here, but I will and either way it is the best place for the nicest format.