turn on the shower
hot, hot, hot,
unbraid my hair on the scale
119.9, 2 less than friday,
too much
for my 5 foot tall body.

sit on the shower floor
breathe in only steam,
rest my chin
lipstick marks on my knees
like blood.

my roommate's dark hair
tethered in the grooves of the shower floor,
sweeps back and forth
I twirl it around my finger
force it down the drain.

stand up
too fast, too fast, too fast,
dizzy
sit back down,
try again.

orange face wash
to keep my skin bright
washes away perfectly sculpted
cheek bones and nose
lips pale pink,
I bite them.

charcoal scrub
to clean out pores
blackheads are no good
only smooth skin
will do.

purple shampoo
to keep my hair blonde
purple conditioner
blonder, softer
gentle waves.

pink razor
removes unladylike hair
soft, delicate,
for surface use only
don't cut, don't cut, don't cut.

coffee scrub
to lighten scars
soften stretch marks,
eliminating the reminders
of what my skin,
my body,
has been through.

face in the water,
wash away my tears,
naked face like a child
wet hair dripping down my back
hands and feet pruned.

turn off the shower
twist my hair in a towel
soften skin with lotion,
coconut
boyfriends favorite.

vaseline lips
soft, kissable, desirable,
float to bed
the sheets are clean,
folded in the laundry basket
on the floor.