one. my misery's accompaniments
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i lock the bathroom door once more.
the sound of the lock clicking is the trigger to the bullet.
as soon as I hear it, i know i'm in the clear.
one drop, two drop, three.
i count the ones that slowly fall free.
After a few, it gets a little bit harder:
the counting and the speed.
i punch the air, waving my arms violently.
i make sure never to hurt the bottles of shampoo around me.
my arms hug my legs, and my legs hug my chest.
my lips kiss my knee.
but, i can't tell if I'm a terribly wet kisser
or if it's a solution created by my eyes
and the tub water that's holding me.
from the fluorescent yellow everywhere
to the thudding of the tap
to the heat that makes my skin red
and the silence of the air I trapped.
they all always go through it with me.
You may say I'm alone, but I'd like to think not really.
YOU ARE READING
We Wear Sad Well
Poetrysunglasses ✔ sleeves that cover our fingers ✔ fingers that cover our face✔ sadness ✔ It's okay to showcase your laugh, but don't ever show a frown. Sadness isn't socially acceptable. Otherwise, you will seem weak. Keep it inside and think about suns...
