The plastic mat that my mother placed on the bottom of the bathtub
To keep my brother and I from slipping in the shower
Prints circular patterns into my shins as I force up the first
Home cooked meal she’s made in months.
The music plays at full volume and the vent hums its disheartening song,
Drowning out the retching sounds coming from my lungs, and I start to shiver beneath
The river of steaming water drumming against my back.
Water is infinitely more comforting than any human touch has ever been.
The heat on my back sends goosebumps down my arms and I think about
How it would feel to be held by something other than
Warm water and moonlight.
Am I so damaged that the only sensations I would feel are
My heart in my throat and a tsunami of fear that would rush over me
Like the water washes over my back?
I sit in the bottom of the tub staring into my ***** as it stares up at me.
The pattering of the water hitting my flesh whispers softly
You are not enough.
You will never
Be enough.
I rest my head against the chilling tiles of the wall
And the words soak into my skin before I can think to wash them away.