Pain is a bathroom sink at 4am

Pain is a Bathroom Sink at 4am

I’ve meditated over too many bathroom sinks

Hands

Either firmly on the counter top, or on the rim of the basin

Discovering the lines in my face

Wrinkles

Pain

Laughter

I searched for my soul in those moments

But I must’ve dropped it down the drain

Or worse

In any instance, it was never behind my eyes

Not anymore anyway

It left me as well

Along with everything else that I sort of cared about

But the one thing that always remains is the mirror

In a bathroom

Over some sink

And me.

There, alone, just the one of us.

And our lines from pain

And laughter

Still searching