Shower
Why is it,
that the shower always makes me feel like crying?
Perhaps it is the warmth
or rhythm
or privacy,
or maybe it's the fact that there is nothing else to do in there.
In any case,
water flows from the shower head,
and then my eyes.
Cleaning my hair
and awakening my fears.
Rinsing my face of oil dirt and debris
and revealing my insecurities.
It runs over my shoulders
and elbows and fingers
illuminating my weaknesses.
By the time I'm to my middle,
I'm reminded or years of things done, and not done.
And I'm still crying.
My thighs and knees are red
from hot water,
and I remember the time.
My calves,
shins, ankles and heels
shake off the remaining pollution.
Then my toes move,
and push the water to the drain.
I turn off the faucet,
and the shower as well.
Save something for another day.
chelsea stock -23
6 comments:
No joke, some of my best cries have been in the shower.
I like this poem ... honestly, while I love poetry, it always takes a long time for me to ingest or digest or whatever type of "-gesting" you do with poetry -- I'm usually a very superficial thinker. But this one, this one goes down as smoothly and is as satisfying as a chocolate shake (mostly because I relate).
Keep it up Chels.
there's something refreshing about a good cry, purifying just like a good shower.
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....i like.
a. lot.
great imagery.
some of my most desperate moments have been felt in the shower, turning the water hotter and hotter until the sting of hot outweighs the sting of hurt. it helps.
shower sobs are like nothing else. sometimes it fixes everything.
love the metaphor.
except you forgot to write about when the water gets to the cut-offs.
there's dozens of us! dozzzzens!
(sorry that's only funny if you've seen a certain episode of arrested development)
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