Ode to the rainy walk of shame

June 29, 2020

Wet azure and cobalt sky;
a tempestuous sea, that laps
against the rusted bricks.


Amidst the thick cascade,
eyes catch the dance of
fragmented light.


In scattered muddled puddles, with
ripples forming waves, unsubtle,


An ambiguous reflection forms;

I am unsure of who I am.


The Clouds
      sink, settle, slump, and slip.


Clothes soaked, quivering lips.
Liquid pools into the sidewalks dips.


Thoughts, a befuddled fog.
      I am being smothered.
           Feet walk faster.


Soles sense the callous
surface of concrete stairs
through tattered soggy flats.


I grasp for the hard metal knob,
a frantic heart, desperate for asylum.


The bathroom.


Cold water to burning cheeks.


I cannot look at my own face.


My fingers fumble with the
buttons of my soaked clothes.


I lay in the tub, naked
peeled and exposed.


Scrubbing skin raw, regret.
This deep ache; a strained breast.


I rise.


My eyes meet the mirror.


A momentary glimpse of grace,
quickly plunges and transfigures.


A pure reflection; defiled.
I am doused, in disgust.


Lips puffy and inflamed.


Skin blemished and bitten;
a bruised plum.


Droplets are still rolling off-

my body.


I drain the tub and let the
tiny bits of me be sucked
in and swirled away.


A twinge of envy,


I cannot bring myself
to leave this space.


I am encased in a chamber
of cold square slabs.


Pacing in despair, I seek
for sounds of solace,


But this stagnant air is
composed of iron and steel.


It is impenetrable and silent.

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