shower | poem

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i am much too familiar
with the cold tiles
of my bathroom floor

my back has been pressed against
this bleached out wall
with my knees to my chest
far too often

the noise from the shower head
has often served as a way
to cover up the sounds of my crying
more than im comfortable
with admitting

but the lemony fresh soap
has always
dragged me
back to the present
-n.c

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