Creative Pieces, LFL's Anniversary Blogging Celebration!

Crying in the Shower: A Midnight Poem.

Screenshot 2017-12-27 at 11.25.03 PM

Crying in the shower

Steam fills the small room,
as water falls and hits the bottom of your tub,
just loud enough to soundproof
the cries in your throat
that you’ve built inside for weeks.
The hot water
flushes your skin
so the redness on your face
isn’t detected by others.
It seems like the world flashes backward
how life was carefree and meaningful
how you once had a boy love you,
how you found happiness in friendships
how tranquillity was the one thing you always wanted,
and for a brief moment, you had it.
But now the shower knobs are being twisted,
a towel is being thrown on the rack,
clothes are falling to the floor until there’s nothing left but your exposed body,
just waiting to be sent back to reality
You cry to the point where you hiccup
wiping hot tears and hot water
running down your face.
You take a deep breath
open your puffy eyes
stand there until the steam
covers the mirror so you don’t
stare back at the mess you call yourself.
And it’s like nothing happened;
the sadness was never there
the memories of a familiar you disappeared
the person you love is still just a fragment of your past,
you open the bathroom door
and cool air
hits your skin
the same way reality hits us.
So we act like the tears in our shower
Never appeared
until next time.

This was a poem I wrote before a midnight shower. TMI, but I was just sitting on the edge of the tub, naked, typing away on the notes on my phone. While writing this, I was reflecting back on the negatives that the year had brought me; I was still (am) dealing with the breakup of my last relationship, I felt like the friendships and connections I made with people were not genuine (with isn’t true, SAD tries to tell me no one truly likes me) and I was thinking about the wrongdoings from the last decade. With this mindset, I also wrote The Year of Forgiveness and it’s become one of my major 2020 resolutions. Also, I’m getting back to writing poetry every now and then without judging how “good” I am. When I was a teenager, I was told I wasn’t a good poet, and because of that, I stopped writing poetry altogether. Just recently, I picked it up again just to get my thoughts out in a more personal, artistic way, of course – without judging whether it’s good or not. So, here is one of many more to come.

hand endnote

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