As she sits there, in her unnaturally somber room,
Another day has started, even earlier at bloom.
Out a dusty window she does most often gaze,
Trying to elude a burdening mental haze.

She has not the courage to venture outside.
She feels it's her sentence; her heart she must hide.
A cup of coffee in hand, she sits in that room,
While encompassed in such an opaque, smoky gloom.

She drinks the coffee, it scalds her lips,
She thinks of you with every sip.
What you had said was burned into her head
“I don't want you anymore, I guess this thing we had is dead.”

She couldn't think of the words, or what she wanted to say
Her feeble, “Why?” hardly made it out that day.
But dejection has since turned into empty, dry eyes.
She is now a girl who seldom cries.

She's realized, it's not worth any more of her time,
No longer is it conforming to her habitual rhyme.
Sure, like a stubborn fiend was how she used to weep,
While your heart was a rebel, difficult to keep.

But for once in all of this time, at last she finally sees.
For she has at long last given up on all those tired, flimsy pleas.
She should have stopped begging and pleading to have you long ago.
You were nothing but a simpleton phase she simply had to outgrow.

The devotion she once felt toward you is now mostly gone,
For she has recognized her heart as merely your worthless pawn.
She hopes that one day she will likely feel again
Perhaps then things will no longer seem so mundane

It's taken so much for her to neglect
The gaping hole that you left in her chest.
Still, some days she will think of you, she will see you on the streets,
The smell of your skin, sometimes she swears, still lingers on her sheets.

She isn't quite sure if the hole will ever completely fill,
Or if she'll be forever stuck in a cold, emotionless chill.
Yet she sits there, day after day, dreaming to repair,
Looking to the lively sky to vanquish her despair.

You don't know me, of that I'm particularly sure.
For if you did, her heart you would have never dared to lure.
Who I am does not really matter, but if you must truly know
I am the one who has had my own heart stolen by that girl in the window.

And perhaps, if I try hard enough, I can mend what you have broken,

The glimmer of her sunlit smile will be your last and final token.