Bathroom Floor

The tears drip down my face,

each droplet hitting the floor like a raindrop, miniscule and insignificant in a hurricane.

I sink to the floor

holding in my cries,

fearing how the sound will shatter like glass on the cold tile.

What mess they’d leave behind.





The silence of the night echoes in my head

Leaving too much open space for thoughts to fill

I sit drowning in words

Choking on my own introspection





My pain flooding from my eyes

and tracing its way down my skin.

Feeling almost like a tender touch.

I feel trapped in my head,

captured in the cage of my own brain.





I cannot succumb to the tumultuous waves of my reality

So instead I rise like a weary sun on a rainy day,

slow and flickering;

run the water in the sink,

wash away the stain of sadness from my face

and return to the light of the kitchen.





To the charged banter exchanged

in an intense tennis match of wit.

To the smile slapped on like the bad plaster on the wall

To calculated words, planned out like an architects equation,

How to build the most stable person.



I return to the kitchen from the bathroom floor