carpet beneath her, wall in front of her,

she looks out the window

trying to find the silver lining that ceases to exist,

except in her dreams.

bon iver sings to her on days like this,

as if he knew her perfectly.

the last seven days have been spent with someone new,

a couch made of leather is cold like her soul.

constant conversation over cup after cup,

these are the things she loves,

as if he got into the depths of her,

without her even knowing,

he afftects her and she fails to recognize it,

and doesnt even wnat to understand it.