Blue-Gray Towel
My head floated on the surface
of the perfumed water
and my eyes rested shut
as silent mantras
filled the vacancy of my thoughts.
The phone ringing
ripped me from reverie
and I climbed from the sanctum
of the heated tub,
my naked feet soaking the carpet
on the way.
I sat on the couch with a cruel breeze
erecting goose bumps across my flesh
as I listened to 500 reasons why
he didn't want to come see me.
500 reasons why grooming myself
and adorning this pale palette
was futile and useless.
Oh, but of course...It was not me, he said.
I looked around at the cluttered room
and tried not to give my sanity to despair.
He didn't understand my sorrow,
or my need to be held..
I have waited so patiently for so long.
Instead, he hung up coldly.
I turned the shower on and stood
letting my skin be beaten red
so that the tears would not come.
Absently my hands worked through
thoughtless motions:
washing my face, my breasts, my hair.
Removing the pain with pain.
I shut off the shower and reached
for his faded blue gray towel
he left two weeks before
and blotted the wetness from my eyes.
Two weeks old and still the smell of him
laced through the fabric.
I slowly glided the plush of it
over my nakedness
over my hair..
Letting the scent of him
mingle into mine
just so I could feel as though
he were close.
As though he wanted to be there.
