It might sound gross,
but in the bathroom I sob.
'Cause I have isolated me
from every breathing being.
'Cause I needed to hide
my vulnerable side.
The bathroom walls had
wrapped me in warmth
when I had panic attacks.
The tiles bore my weight
when I broke apart.
The taps muffled my cries
when the world went quiet.
The ceiling,
a quiet witness
of the fingers,
working through my neck,
withdrawing my soul
from aching bones.
The mirror–
flinching at the face it reflects,
listened to all my wickedness.
It soaked up my venting
and kept me intact.
As I lay crumbled
on the warm floor,
the pillow took me in care.
Carried to the bed,
cradled me until dawn.
I'll return
to the warm room again,
let it handle my pain,
let it hold me until I faint.
I'll stick to the pillow,
let it blur me,
let it engulf my agonies,
let it walk me into deep sleep.