scalding-

the water is scalding

turning my skin a wonderful, horrible lobster red

the tears are hot too,

but neither are as hot as the shame coiled, a deadly python, in the pit of my stomach.

maybe if I turn the water up hot enough,

it'll wash away the tears,

the pain,

the guilt,

the panic,

the dread,

the stress,

the thoughts,

the weight that rests on my chest, forcing each breath to be shallow and useless.

maybe if I turn the water up hot enough, the steam will finally suffocate the choking emotions that cloud my vision.

I taste the salt on my lips, I feel the water drip down off my eyelashes, streaking down my red skin.

I taste the fear, tangible and sour, a poison more dangerous than cyanide. I taste the animosity in the air, bitter and dangerous

-the unspoken words that break us all

to

tiny

Itty

bitty

shards,

pitiful remains of what

we

once

were.

my knuckles turn white but no matter how hard I pull I can't bend the bars that confine me. my breath plumes in front of me, my skin rises in gooseflesh. nothing can warm this house back to a home.