Mascara Stained Pillow

She escaped to her room
In hopes that she would find
Comfort in the surrounding walls
And yet, their sturdiness
Was a false sense of
Security.
She stared at her desk
And mulled over the idea
Of writing her heart
Out onto a piece of paper
To rid herself of sadness'
Toxins that prance in her veins.
At the moment she started to sit,
It suddenly was not enough;
She sat heavily on her bed
And dragged a pillow,
One cased in white velvet,
And buried her face
As if to hide the hurt
So clear on its surface.
She began to tremble and sob
Soundlessly;
Her eyes filling with tears
That fell hastily down her flushed cheeks.
She hugged the soft, warm pillow
To her raggedly rising and falling chest;
Her only comfort
Was her mascara stained pillow.