Sometimes, I stand underneath the showerhead.
I let the water scald my breasts, painting them crimson
- my legs, scarlet.

I watch my feet and hands burn with angry fury.
I force my face under the liquid sting, a thousand
knives for a thousand cells. I open my mouth and
let the burn cleanse my insides. I swallow to purge you from my
prana. I scrub your dirty handprint from my grave.

Afterwards, I stand in front of the mirror, my flesh
panting in vapor, my eyes bloodshot. I look deeply to see
if you've finally gone.

I am always disappointed.

09/01/2007

Author's Note: From November of 2004. Bad time.

Posted on 09/01/2007
Copyright © 2025 Maria Kintner