We have been here before,

we have bitten this before,

my neck has bled here before,

into the cushions.

I have felt the weight of fixation, and felt it blow so quickly through me,

and I have sunk into it,

into the cushions.

and into me…

as a result.

I’ve felt it obliterate me in the same breath,

catch me falling with those same arms.

That same heat that you can actually feel with your eyes,

and on your arms…

I am forgetting about the heat and the steam,

about heaven and earth,

all whilst still establishing a couch on which I will sleep,

All at once.

bathe

bathed

bathing.

I’ll just stick my feet in,

into the cushions,

into the water,

soak

soaked

soaking.

I’ll forget a towel, and walk across the tile with my wet feet,

and those footprints and the vowels will linger, until I can find a towel,

and a consonant,

and a ghost.

Trying so desperately to reach you, or anyone,

in an attempt to break parity and maybe a few bones too!

Trying to contort, to confront,

to wrestle all of this into a deep, dark submission,

into knots

into comfort,

and into sleep.

To bury it under the cushions,

Along with the unlit birthday candles, and the necklaces,

and the dried blood from my neck.

Leave it to be blown out like the candles that never were.

Leave to be suffocated,

Leave it to be implied,

Leave it to be iridescent,

Leave it on

repeat

repeated

repeating.