One
toothbrush lies upon my bathroom sink
And in the tub one bottle of
shampoo
Both silent, but I know that they must weep
For yesterday they were not one, but two
The fixtures, mourning now for what is gone
Outward appearances may yet deceive
So brilliant white like
alabaster skin
But
tarnished still by he who did
aggrieve
This
porcelain has no face, no tears, no cries
Yet still its sorrow is not hard to see
The
mirror cannot weep, and yet I know
For all that it will now reflect is me