Shower

Stepping into the white box,
drawing the curtain closed
turning the dial somewhere
between hot and cold,
letting the splash cover every
inch of sweat soaked skin.

The dark hair turns black
as it runs down a porcelain
back. Sitting at the bottom
of that white box, eyes closed,
feeling the drips of water.

Nothing else matters as the mind
dumps its load into the drain
as the water drops carry it
through the floor and into the whirlpool.

Down the drain goes heartbreak,
toxic thoughts, the scars slowly
leaving the skin as the ice water
forces itself on the body, cleansing.

Curling up in a ball at the bottom
of the shower, head on knees
trying to understand, finally rising
renewed, a sense of calm,
cleaned.