The Lovely Box of Pathetic Sadness
A shower can be experienced:
A nozzle being adjusted and
The handle turned to the correct angle,
Ensuring the exact temperature;
A hand slips past thin plated glass,
As steam billows, swirling and compacting into water,
Sliding down an adjacent mirrored wall.
As expectations are met,
A lean body will be undressed;
Clothing layered into tile.
Exposed and unembarrassed
And as velvet flesh is made clean,
It cleanses a dirty soul.
The day welded on my mind
As I lay down on floor;
Welts cover my back.
As salt mixes with fresh,
As the barrage of water gushes on,
Covering up tears
As they fall from red eyes:
But even in this box of sadness,
Can tenderness be experienced.
As new lovers meet up for a midday
Water folds into water,
Lovers folding into each other,
As other bursts fall through,
And finally a gush of exhaustion in the private rooms
In our heads, the rooms in our homes,
In our sadness,
In our hearts once more.
Finally, as we bend into our beds
And then rise again with the golden globe,
As we full up our mugs,
As we chew on our butter croissants,
We know that there will be traffic today,
We know we should call our Mothers,
And that our shower,
Will never give us the same warmth
As our old lovers.
Our second date is going to be on Wednesday, and I think it might be cuter than our first date (which I didn’t think was possible).
We are literally going to get coffee and look at each other’s poetry.