All I have is showers and coffee and writing. And sometimes I’m sure I can’t even write anymore. And sometimes the water doesn’t get hot enough. And I can’t make the coffee taste right lately. So what is there left for me?
I’ve been hiding in the shower lately.
I don’t like being there,
but the rest of the world vanishes
with just a couple turns of the faucet.
I’ve told myself to stop,
tried to face this all,
instead of taking refuge in quiet sounds and fake rain.
I want to be a mermaid,
a warm-water mermaid on days like these.
My problems get washed away down the drain
and I step out into a new situation.