Brown Eyes

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I hadn't felt in a long time; It had mostly been work, work, work and idle chit chat until, suddenly, I began weeping to the hold music as I waited to speak with tech support.

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The soft piano melody reminded me of someone I used to be.

Was it a sense or loss like a discarded cicada skin stuck to a tree?

Or was it like coming home to a childhood bedroom still intact after a decade of independent living?

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We'd eaten take-out Chinese in bed, the room painted electric blue by the DVD input screen.

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Maybe I'll move on.

Maybe I'l grow up.

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Either way, it's all liquid and rushing, the word made wobbly through my tear-filled brown eyes