Shower Thoughts

Like many of us who are brave enough to admit it, my memory fails me. A lot!

I can barely remember anything from last month, Monday is foggy and so you can imagine that last year is near impossible.

Early in life, I may have had some trauma-induced amnesia, because my internal storage is wiped clean of anything before secondary school.

So when people recollect things that happened when they were 6, I marvel. This is one reason I am a hoarder of data; why I never delete chats or voice notes or pictures, except in the rare cases I absolutely want to forget, and when I do forget, it's almost as if it never happened.

I’m reposting this simple poem, two years after I wrote it because I have not forgotten. It did happen. I did drag my grief laden shell to the bathroom and kneel-sit in the cold porcelain tub.

I did reach for the water bowl and plunge my arms deep in the basin instead. The foot scrub stone holding up the basin at a perfect tilt is no match for my full weight, so when it gives, the splashback that warms the tub also causes the candle in front to sputter.

It is lit in front of mum's full-length mirror which is perfect for my frequent moments of narcissism. But I am not looking.

The other candle stands tall behind me, casting a beautiful soft light on the mirror and scaring away the eerie shadows that appear in the darkness when you take your bath at 2am.

It's been two years, but I remember that the light from two candles is not enough to illume this heart that my demons call home.

I remember the silent cursing as my arms lift over my head to pour. My back arches and twists like a worm sprinkled with salt but it's not the scalding water that makes me mutter to the heavens. It's that damn word "bestie"

I should be angry, instead, my eyes leak saline.

I remember everything, despite my sieve memory. I remember leaning back in the tub and cradling the little bowl of water as I sobbed. Didn't I deserve to be loved, I wondered.

The answer made me chuckle. If everyone got what they deserved, we'd all win the lotto.

This rigged system is a game of luck and the god of luck does not like my face.

There's so much beauty on centre-stage but sometimes you get backseat tickets.

#TheBestPoemsAreWrittenInTheShower
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#unlucky
#unluckyinlove
#bestie
#poem
#lovepoems