I’m coming clean.
Feet overlapping on cold linoleum floors, toeing the filthy,
ripped and tattered clothing that lay.
I’m
coming clean.
Scalding hot water rises in tubs bubbling with promises of
clarity and composure.
I’m
coming clean.
Black and blue bruises splashed on thighs disappear under
the foaming truth.
I’m
coming clean.
Bloody fingertips fingering silvered faucets alternate between
the temperatures of glacial and disintegration.
I’m
coming clean.
…whispering silences laughing subsides underneath…
…clean.
No comments:
Post a Comment