thoughts

.

I wonder if anyone ever takes the time
to look up
in the shower,
and watch the streams of water break
against her curled
fingers. bent
together like a closing flytrap.

knuckles interrupting ropes of water
like ten thousand songs
dismantled and
harmonized
into complex emotions that are only heard
through intuition and
careful inspection.

If anyone’s mood is ever so balanced
between uncertainty
and desperate trust, glazed with a translucent layer
of apathy.
if she is ever as reluctant
to step out of the liquid halo
matting her hair and melting
into her eyes-

and meet reality
right where it was left,
sterile and sharp-like a flu shot,
or an angry mother’s fingernails.

If anyone finds such sanctuary
in standing, naked and
alone
as scalding knives carve pink lashes across her shoulders
and shelter her from any other thought.

Or if I’m the only one
who stands here, in wordless fascination,
but rapidly searching for the proper description
of city filtered water
that breaks into jewels against my skin,
and peeling away layers
of uncertainty.
irritating my eyes as they become too ambitious
and bold in their advance.

.