Beat me down,
break my spirit,
all I need is one reason to cry in the shower;
to give myself completely to a
thousand lovely drops.
When I lay on my back and
let the water pour down on me relentlessly,
I realize I'm not sinking;
                                           I'm still here.
When I bow my head and
watch the water create a curtain of my hair,
I realize I'm still visible;
                                           I'm still here.
When I arch towards the ceiling and
let the water beat on my raw red chest,
I realize there's still a heart inside;
                                           I'm still here.
Yet my toes are still chilled, aching,
remembering how far I've come and
reminding how far I have to go.
Each stream that runs hastily
down the curves of my barren body
defines more than a physical adoration,
but a renewal:
I am not his,
or hers
or theirs;
the only thing that binds me is my mind.
Wash off the feel of his touch or
the scent of her perfume,
let it fall away like every other lovely drop
and see the world's beauty through your eyes again.