i guess the average human takes the maximum of three to four hours to complete laundry.

perhaps my procrastination is a perfected performance i love to execute.
letting my hamper of clean clothes sit, freshly slept from the dryer,
as heat exhausts like a bakery opening its doors on a fresh spring morning
after a long winter dawn of hot showers making love of steam to the mirrors
that break their kiss with the winds of the bathroom door opening.

perhaps folding clothes the same day they’re washed
isn't in the vocabulary of my to-do list.
maybe it’s because the light peeking through the blinds
pulls me into daydreams, where my pillow reminds me
of a lost love who once suffocated the life out of me.

now i sit here, struggling with folding clothes
after a woman’s long, hard work of washing and drying,
only to be greeted by another week’s worth of wearing and wearing down.

my drawers bloat with clothes that have never seen a moment of my life.
saved for first dates, a girls' night out,
the day i finally wear my boxed makeup
for the perfect photoshoot
to post online and pretend i’m okay.

but i’m not.
just like my closet screams with hangers
trying to hold on as time flies by,
like the empty bottles of alcohol i’ve lined up like décor
instead of scheduling an appointment for an AA meeting.

my chore list builds like clutter
buying vegetables, stopping at the dollar store
for plastic silverware,
but i still haven’t found enough quarters
to avoid the minimum ten-dollar card charge.

so it all builds up
just like me lying in bed
with undiagnosed agoraphobia
that didn’t exist until one rejection
broke something soft inside me.

it still visits me every night in my sleep.
and every week, i lie to my therapist,
draining both of us
because i can’t think of another excuse
to avoid facing what might actually heal me.

because those sessions
feel like just another chore
like my laundry.

i guess the laundry sits with me better
than the people who left
when i needed them the most.
at least the clothes stay.
and one day, i’ll have to fold them and move on.

but today
i sit on the floor,
with laundry waiting to be folded,
reflecting on the rock bottom
i never quite climbed out of.