Relapse

I’m sitting naked on the cool bathroom floor,
watching the steam roll off my reddened skin,
hoping that the guilt I feel in my stomach goes away
and not make me rest my arms on the lavatory seat
like the night before.

I let myself slip again –
I saw it coming;
all the sleepless nights,
shaky hands
and poisonous  thoughts,
but somehow was still blindsided –
like holding on a rope about to snap;
you see all the tiny threads separating,
but nothing prepares you for the fall.

I get back into the hot bath water,
washing the past couple of days out of my hair,
draining the bath,
imagining it drains all the tears out of me too.

This is me –
starting all over again.

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