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.

the air smells of crisp pale pink flowers
dappled by a gentle pitter patter of April showers
glittering, smiling white lightning crowing hello,
tonight nature is gentle with her babies.

the sweetest storm you've ever seen,
and the flora and fauna seem to exhale in relief
soaking up the fertile juices to grow strong,
as the birds silence their chirps to listen to her voice,
as the fawns lick and nuzzle their fellow deer,
and I've got to wonder,

is the spirit of my mother here?

I inhabit my silent cave with soft ease
welcome it's embrace
to mould its temporary shell
encased around my shape
leaks seep through with the ceiling cracks
from too many layers of alabaster

hide buckets and bowls inconspicuous
the lakes dare reflect their hits and misses
the floor a constant magma
and the sky too low to stretch steps on a spine

tracking the navigation of a falling sliver
always seemed so simple
now all they do is pool
on barren cheeked horizons
tips of icebergs
on frozen stranger

Indoor
Outdoor
By door
You see more
Than the spring drizzle
That cleans your lawn
That lets the scents out of your yard.
You see an opening
Through the drops
That lets you escape the drapes
To April

Wash me clean of this feeling,
left over from a frost, half thawed.
I am slow and clunky
tension and heavy
my head is empty, but

there’s so much pressure.
Building up, holding itself up.
Let the pressure break,
water me into serenity.

I see your eyes flicker as droplets on our skins dance to the ground.
Your smile widens as the water clicks the cement our heels tread on.
For a moment I am suspended in your love.
My soul expands to the sky, the earth, and the water in between.
Perhaps April will be my favorite moment between us.

surely
You are found in the sound
of raindrops dripping
sprinkling, storming,
coming down in sheets.

I like to take,
Showers more than usual,
Not because I am too tidy,
But because,
I like my tears to stay hidden,
I don’t want them to be seen ,
By people who will judge them,
Not understand them,
I like them to be washed away,
With shower,
I stand still,
Until I see every little,
Drop of my tear,
Roll down my cheek,
Get absorbed in
The guise of water,
And I love how
I come out so nicely,
Like everything is
perfect………

I think of you in the running showers.
I think of you in the scent of flowers.
I think of you when I am asleep.
I think of you in the memories I keep.

I think of you when I am low and high.
I think of you when I fail and try.
I think of you in summer and snow
I think of you in dark and glow.

I think of you in wrong and right.
I think of you in black and white.
I think of you in scars and screams.
I think of you in hopes and dreams.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj