I turn the faucet to hot,

let the water run down the drain

till its heat stings the tips of my fingers.

I close the drain,

let the water hold itself.

like I hold myself.

like I wish to be held.

I scatter epsom salt,

watch it sink, drown, dissolve,

dab in two drops of lemon oil

the label reads “renewing.”

I flip through colors

on the twinkle lights loosely

framing the mirror,

red feels like soaking in a pool

of my own bloodied rage.

I think green will feel better

but it tastes like my missing memory.

I settle on blue,

and I think of Moonlight

“I cry so much sometimes,

I feel like I'ma turn to drops”

I imagine my skin in space,

held like a star, dying energy.

I test the water with a toe,

then a foot,

then I hold the faucet

and lower the rest of my body in all at once

and the water is the temperature just before scalding.

I sit, knees to chin,

arms around shins,

I want to put my face under the water

open my mouth and let my lungs fill.

I remember when waking up to my naked body felt safe.

The bath is safe behind a locked door,

with no sharp objects in arms reach,

because my mind whispers

                                                I want to die.

                                                            I want to die.

                                                                         I want to die.

and Lianne La Havas’ voice replaces silence

                        “Bittersweet summer rain”

“I’m born again”

“All my broken pieces”

and where can I go when there are only pathways to death?

I love you to death.

I’m dying for your love.

I wonder,

if an orgasm is a “little death,”

does that make rape a big death?

“Bittersweet summer rain”

“I’m born again”

I place my face under the water

a mini baptism,

a commitment to myself

purified in my own image.

patriot

unrequited love a sick twisted fantasy where i am to beg on broken knee for affection you cannot give you are aloof estranged distant violent have never proven otherwise say to me i am not real i am not human i am not worth your time invaluable disposable you use my desire to belong my desire to be loved my desire to be seen and held by you wrapped inside your stars your stripes i come back to you screaming kicking suffocating under your ego masterfully you give me breath a moment of release a hand on my shoulder a pat on my back you promise me promise lands you say you are sorry you say you love me but i do not believe your words are true i have been here before inside this white room at your round table on the edge of my seat hinging on each pause each lift of your chest as you inhale you simultaneously suck the life from me as you tell me i am killing myself and i swallowed so many bricks they formed a wall in my throat and when i refuse to listen any longer when i say enough it is weak unauthoritative you are stronger than i you have taken me molded me into your own image your design to operate as a cog in your webbed machines and this performance has morphed me into someone i don’t recognize someone i don’t want to know and i’ve become a creature with an unsatisfied bloodlust developed a desire to cheer as your carcass burns