A poem I wrote in the shower

I write these words on the steamed-up window

And they trickle down in swirls and tears and memories.

A hot shower fixes everything –

At least that is what I tell myself,

Sitting in the tub as the water gushes,

Scratches my back the way you used to do,

Runs down the skin your hands once touched.

 

Things will be better tomorrow.

condensation

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