i'm so glad you're doing better

hot shower in spring

my muscles uncrinkle

as i massage my scalp

slowly, like they do in the salon,

so i’m soft now

and tender.

i’m washing off the sleep

to meet you

for the first time

since we broke up,

when you asked me

to help you die.

or, wait, no - we met once after that, didn't we?

i still use the soap you introduced me to

but it’s costly, creature,

so most days i use a generic grocery store wash.

 

which soap this day?

not yours.

let me smell unfamiliar to you, an

olfactory telegraph:

steady on your feet, beloved.

i can't hold you up.