I was in the shower and I was trying to perfect my cursive, but then I thought of this poem. I then wrote it on my mirror until I thought it was good enough to blog.This is original and by Danielle Levine
My finger etches my name and the door cries with every stroke. As the water descends my writing fogs and disappears. erasing all evidence of me and my crimes against the glass. Only to be replaced with more tears, but not from me. I cannot cause this much sadness. It's caused from the water falling from the shower head. Not satisfied with staying on the ground, drops jump onto the clear surface creating more lines of tears than the fog can erase. Until soon, I'm not looking at a clear glass door, I'm looking at lines obscuring my view of the world on the other side.