Tiny, Broken Paper Hearts Poem by Samantha Moon

I ended up
In another's room
Curled up in a big, blue bed
The walls painted
A dark blue
Making me feel
As if I was being
Drowned
In an ocean
So far, far away

I got up
And stepped onto
The floor
The same exact
Carpeting that
I had
The room was a mess
With music papers
And old pieces
Of art
Thrown unceremoniously
To the ground
“I would never treat
My art like that! ”
I remember thinking

I went to her,
As I assumed
It was a her,
CD stand
I was never
One for music
Preferring instead
The thoughts of
My own mind
To the roaring
Guitars and
Slamming basses
The girl had CDs
Of bands I had
Never heard of
Before like
Regina Spektor
And Malajube
And White Rabbits

Losing interest,
I walked over to
Her bookshelf
Only to find it
Shockingly bare
She had a few spare
Comic books
And a few teen romances
But none of what I was
Looking for
No Zola
Or any Voltaire
No classics such
As Hemingway
Or Sartre
No favorite childhood tales
Like Alice In Wonderland
Or Mimus
She didn't even
Have any Douglas Adams

Losing interest,
I walked to her closet
Inside I found
Clothes from many
Different styles
From the long scarves
Of the indie look
To to the off the shoulder
Tops of the emo scene
Long, flowery dress
That would reach
My knees
In shades
That I found
Quite unflattering
Not being able
To find anything
In my taste
I left

Forgoing the
Amateur art
Strewed upon the floor
I began to leave the
Blue, blue room
Hoping for home
Or someone I
Knew before

But I was halted
At the door,
Where a small,
Moon shaped mirror
Hung
Inside the mirror
I caught the face of
A girl

The girl
In the mirror
Was not someone
I recognized
She had bright blue hair
And thick, heavy
Black rimmed glasses
Perched on
Her nose
She was smiling
As if she knew
Something I did not
I got closer
To the mirror
Only to find
The girl
Follow my movements
With the same
Silly smile
Plastered on her face
I opened my mouth
To ask who she was
And to ask
Where am I
Only to hear
Some strange accent
Come out
Of my mouth

The girl in the mirror
Just smiled
I demanded
In that strange new
Tongue, who she was
But her mouth just
Followed mine
And I was given
No answers

Knowing I would
Get nothing out
From this strange
Girl
I walked back
To the big, blue bed
And sat down

I found myself
Thinking of home
I missed the fairies
On my walls
And the bizarre
Victorian-esque
Wear that
Laid in my closet
I found myself
Missing the familiar
Scent of burnt scones
And freshly brewed
Earl Grey tea
I missed my books
Of poems
And short stories
And the long
Lengthy novels
Sitting upon my shelves
At home
I missed the
Pleasant sound
Of children
Outside laughing
Waiting for me
To come join them
I missed the
Tiny, broken
Paper hearts that
I would make
With my mother

I think I started
To cry
But no one was
There to pick me
Up like a child
And tell me
Everything was
Going to be okay
I just wanted to be
With my
Tiny
Broken
Paper hearts
That I had always
Surrounded myself with
And not ever
See this stranger's
Blue, blue room
Again.