One Word

An empty bowl stares at him
Reflection of soul off of the white rim
But he can't see any further
Doesn't have the need to ever hurt her

She is feeling but never close
Inner healing must be morose
She's got all the reason to be cynical
Because the season's never clinical

Winter is synonymous with melancholic
Now he's an anonymous alcoholic
He's dealt with this depression before
But not with his faced pressed on the floor

She doesn't think anyone hears her
Clutching to the sink, looking in the mirror
Wanting to run from all her mistakes
Ignore the sun because her heart aches

Whether dismantling because of the weather
Now they're standing on the curb together
He hesitated because he nearly had to go
She's glad he waited to turn and say "hello"