i step into the shower
picking shards of glass off my palms
delicately undress the wounds on my legs

cold water pours
i rest my purple, ****** fingers against the shower stall
and douse myself in rose-scented soap
scrubbing what skin remained

see my black eyes in the broken mirror
as i wipe my face off.
an arsenal to fix the mess.

loving arms wait outside the door
but my cold hands tremble on the ****

bruises wrapped in a tight dress

i’d lie gorgeous in a casket
and finally rest.