The bathroom is ice cold and the house silent
bass popping in your ear
One splayed hand gripping one tensed thigh
Your nails dig in, lilac pretty
-
You *** and it feels warm
So you fight the urge to slip your cold hand under the stream
-
A hard stare in the mirror, seeing too much and nothing much at all
-
You thought it was just that sleep evaded you but something much bigger was chasing you, leaving you
too
All too often
All too much
-
Here you are again.
Does it feel good?