9:08 pm
the water is cold and drips down my back. i sit underneath the shower water, my legs up against my chest by around wrapping my hands to the bottom of my thighs. my head is closed down as i squint my eyes shut. the constant wet substance falls onto the back of my head, and slowly drips down my back making my hair stick to it.
i don't do anything;
i don't move
i don't talk
i don't sing
i don't cry
or scream
or lash out.
i sit.
and i shut my eyes.
and i think.
think about everything, and then nothing at all. i could sit for hours upon hours just sitting underneath the ice cold water. i could also cry my heart out, i could sing my lungs out, i could yell in frustration or dance around like a goof. but no - i don't. i sit and think. my least favorite part about showers, is having to get out - having to go through the uncomfortable state of feeling hair stick to you like glue, the chilling air clouding around you; a thick mist that hovers you and water dripping down your back, arms and thighs. water droplets fall from your wet hair and onto your back - even though you just dried it, making everything even worse. i wish i could stay in the shower forever, just letting the cold water hug me like a blanket of comfort. just like i wish he could hug me like a blanket of comfort, happiness, and joy.
DU LIEST GERADE
intoxicated // poetry || 01
Poesie[ book 01 - completed ] emotions are not meant to be bottled up, and i knew at the second your breath intoxicated my lungs, that emotions were meant to be wild, spread out, and if you can survive the journey, it'll be one hell of a story. ███████...
