The freckles on your face

Let's pretend I haven't been laying motionless on the floor of my bedroom for the past two hours.

My back aches from laying on it since 2 am this morning.

Let's pretend I had enough power to get myself out of bed this morning.

Let's pretend I went to school.

Let's pretend I conquered the day like everyone else.

Let's all pretend the bath I tried to fill up hours ago didn't flood the floor I still remain motionless on.

Because we know what it's like to pretend the worries of the world aren't going to consume your mind like a mouse devouring the last piece of moldy cheese.

I know you're there.

Standing behind the door that so preciously preserves me inside.

Why do you complain about your shoes getting wet when all you have to do is turn the faucet off?

Why won't you?

Can't you tell I'm drowning?

When are you going to tell me to stand up?

When am I going to tell myself to stand up?

This water now runs cold through my hair like the breeze on a summer night.

What's it like to be in love?

I wouldn't know.

I don't even know how to center words on the page I've been working on for years.

This music is so loud. Would you turn it down, dearest?

Oh, right. You like the music loud. I do too, but sometimes it hurts my ears.

Sometimes water hurts my skin, yet it still remains the only thing in contact with it.

Do you need to replace drenched carpet?

I'd assume so.

I can feel the rhythm beat my spine, with the floor being the buckle end of the belt that so strongly holds up the pants wrapped around your legs.

Don't you get tired of watching the same show? All you have to do is turn the channel.

All you have to do is turn off the faucet.

The red shoes on my feet you so willingly bought me are all torn up.

But I still wear them every single day.

I can see the freckles on your nose from here, peeking through the wet golden hair sticking to your cheek. The same ones that you told me you hated, after I told you how much I loved them.

Remember the Charleston? Remember when we learned it in that underground dance club that we both snuck in to?

I can see the watch that lays under my bed with the time 4:00 pm.

I think the pipes ran out of tears.

I think my back can't take being glued to the floor any longer.

I think we blew the speakers out.

I think it's time for you to go.

But first, I think it's time for me to stand up.

I can feel the aching in my bones seeping into my soul. My body has never been so grateful to finally tell my brain what to do.

I'm so glad you were there to witness my feet being the only part of me on the floor.

You can have the shoes back, and now you may go.

At least I can get rid of my shoes, but the freckles that God painted on you will be stuck to your wet face forever.