Bathroom Stalls

It was dark in the bathroom of that downtown club.

A dirty mirror,

A fuzzy stare.

Blue walls enclosing her and the person she sees.

A suffocated room;

Blue like her mood,

But the dress is her favorite black;

Color of her eyes,

Color of demise.

Everything is summed up in that tainted mirror -

A grimy room,

Dirty too soon.

Music blares through those blue walls -

Her favorite kind, 

Hip-hop sublime.

The kind she’d like to dance to in that black dress.

Scarlett of the night

Dances in the spot light.

But her reflection won’t let her leave.

A mesmerizing picture,

Product of liquor.

She’s had too many drinks of that vodka mixture.

The room is blurry;

Her conscience buried,

The sensation of alcohol is in her blood.

A smooth mix,

An utter hex.

There’s no better place than this moment in time -

A bathroom stall,

Reflecting blue walls.

She can hear music bump louder in here.

Thump like her heart,

A beat apart.

But there’s nothing more real as this tainted mirror.

Dirty walls,

Bathroom stalls.













Isabel Ward