Portrait of a girl, drying

she leans on the counter
like she's posing
for a painting
no one would buy

hair color, dusty,
like books she read
in rooms locked
to all but sunlight

thick rings on thin fingers
bone white
tapping, nervous
dreaming of a cigarette

eyes still alive
or even more so
but youth is slamming doors
up and down her body

on the shelf behind her
they sell artificial tears
I question the necessity
I question the validity