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the subtle art of showering

had a lovely shower tonight, not much else.


i am desperate to write,

and an eternity

would leave me starving.


i peel away the layers of my

existence

as i take my

rings off to shower.


the water is hot and i walk

in as pure energy,

accompanied

by the

song that makes me feel real.


the shower is like rain,

beating blood to the surface of my skin

and

wrapping around me.


words wash over me,

with every droplet

another line;

another line lost down

the drain.


i stare at it,

sat next to clumps of my hair

and bubbles from my shampoo.


i stare at it

and inhale the scent

of my soap,

breathe the cleanliness

and promises of eternal love.


i am a hungry woman,

but i let the lines

drain away,

i let them go in peace.


yearning yells

at me,

but i yell with it

and hug it.


the water falls

over me,

tracking like a tear down my face.


forgiveness opens the door,

and brushes my wet hair

as gently as the

stars tell me i am worthy.


promises dress me

and my desperation

put the lines from the drain

back on a page.


i ponder memories;

i wonder if a shower could ever

be enough to wash

away the past,

or if i will scrub uselessly

in hopes of a

blank canvas.


i think

of every missed opportunity to

hug myself.


i think of how painful

i had convinced myself

love was.


i wonder how i survived,

so terrified to love

and of being loved.


i think

that

maybe i don’t want a blank canvas,

and i let what has happened

become

what won’t happen again.


i let every missed moment

of self love

become a longer hug.


i let myself

grow and breathe,

and look forward to my shower tomorrow.


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