after the shower

stream babbling from beyond the cracked open door.

pink towel wrapped around my clean body,

damp from the droplets of water that washed me from head to toe.

hair slicked to my head,

waiting to be brushed and cut,

loosing the grip and lifting the weight of what has been in these past two years.

one foot on the floor, as a lever to push this body back and forth as it rests in the soft cotton hammock meant for naps and books and deep times of reflection.

fire across the room struggles to keep the flames,

as a plane flies too close overhead

and i wonder what it is,

what is this dread that lives inside

my bones from time to time.

why are these times,

the times when i just want to

escape it all.

run.

flee.

remember me all on my own.

how can i possibly be free if i cannot take two steps without having a projection cast my way,

or seeing a reflection of myself in the hard to accept parts of my family.