Mirror

I see a girl who looks like she's ready for death. 
She has bags under her eyes 
And wraps on her wrists. 
She has smeared makeup— 
But not from love or a kiss, 
From staying up all night rethinking the past, 
Trying to figure out why it didn’t last. 
But blood started to sink into the wraps around her limbs. 
Her eyes, once blue, had now turned black to the rim. 
And the last thing I saw her do was take a breath. 
She bows her head with a sigh and fades, just like the light.