i let the folds and wrinkles in the bathwater climb up the peaks my knees made in the water
that broke through a glassy, sudsy facade like mountains in a grassy plain
and i closed my bloodshot eyes in a haze of smoke and steam where my hair
could be the curling curtains against the world and the blazing shower was my fiery atmosphere

but i couldn't bear the heat the comfort the warmth
so i opened my eyes and inhaled more smoke through a veil of steam
and i hung my arm with shriveled trembling fingertips into the outer space of my frigid bathroom
and wondered how you became more analogous to the bad kind of goose bumps than the good

so when the sun fails and the night reigns how does one know when to wake up
so when memories become more real than the water scalding your toes how do you know when to turn the faucet
i guess when the scarlet of your burned skin matches the rims of your red eyes
it’s time to drop the smoke and stick with the steam

i remember when you were in the water with me instead of the broken razor head
floating forlornly by my shivering thighs and the frothy carnage of a bubble bath,
your languid arm where my shampoo sits in a pool of my conditioner and my head rested
in the infinite safety of the curve between your lips and your soft, blistered hands

but your ghost lounges with me while your metronomic heart lulls her to sleep
and I'm wondering why i cant remember the time before your face was tattooed to the inside of my eyelids
and I'm wondering how my safely blanket ended up strangling me
and I'm wondering was it her eyes or her laugh or her smile or was it mine that broke us?