the steam of the shower holds your face
like a pillow.
pushing out the smog, clutter in your head
billowing around you and thawing out
the raw thoughts that you try to freeze over.
the endless patter of hot rain that
cleanses, but also
hurts
in that it's one of the only
honest sounds you'll ever hear
(outside of love.)
the moment you step out into the humid, mediated
atmosphere of a cooling room
the water dripping off your arms,
your hair,
your face,
making you anew.
but as everyone does, you wipe the mirror clear
to see your face, and know that despite life,
it's still you.
it changes you, yet proves your you-ness more than anything else.
