I sit

in the bathroom

staring

at the faces

in the paint

on the walls.

they glare at me

with tiny eyes

and furrowed brows.

they

are

angry

because they know

what I have done

and they are displeased

with me.

and

for a long time

we remain

eye contact

never breaking

salty water

forming

in my tear ducts.

finally

I give in

and blink.

they laugh.

it's

the kind of laugh

that makes no sound

but produces

a headache

more vicious

than one made

by all of the noises

in the world.

but my head

does not ache

and my tears

do not fall

and the only

remnant

of this harrowing event

is the gentle shaking

of my hands.