One stained white porcelain tub. Her body slinking along its edge. Legs spread. Burdensome shoulders cradle her chest.
One spotted mirror with silver lining Looming before her vacant body Beckoning the worries along her frown.
One simple, egg white sink. Water heaving out the spout. A clamorous barrier for a secrecy of peace.
Tears never dribbled so carelessly without cause.
For the first time, she mumbles Against purposed distraction, “Why am I crying?”
One silent sob so strong The escapes of sound Perch along the back of her throat.
Despair fits her like a latex suit. So tight and intoxicating The tendons on her hands Strain to grip harder to the tub.
Time laces around her Like silk against snakes skin.
This too shall pass. A misted idea meandering in the mind. She clings to it like pollen on a bee’s back.
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