Still

Sitting there - face wet, blinds cracked. Light spewing with a noir-esque undertone.  The harsh warning of a train passing; late arrivals meander in.  The beep - the most consistent aspect and yet the consistent reminder of irritation.  The anger building - and falling - as the arcs of a heart beat.  The incriminating piece of art veering down from the wall, begging memories.  The moments laid out - what has there ever been to hide?