Poems That I Form

shower

I don't like my body.
Never have, don't think I ever will.
But when I feel the warm, slowly turning scalding water, I like my body.

Maybe it's because my glasses are off, and it's too blurry to see.
Maybe it's because o don't have to stare at myself.
I think it's because it washes away touches of certain people.

I don't want to be reminded of cold hands curling in my hair, slightly pulling, even though it put me back into reality.
I don't want to feel sweaty palms in my own hands, even though when thoughts became too much, the feeling of being together calmed me down.
I don't want someone's full body laying on me, even though the presence made me feel whole.
I don't want warm hands roaming lazily on my body, even though he thought it was beautiful.

I scrub with a loofah and get on with my life.
Dye my hair a new color,
Sleep with multiple pillows,
Whatever it takes to get that feeling off of me.

I dreamed of his arms around me.
God, it felt so real and soft and warm and perfect.
But then I woke up, sopping wet, naked, bleary-eyed, and tears as hot as the water.
I had to turn it off someday.
So I did and instantly, cold air clung to me.

I feel like only cold air clings to me now.