When the sun rises and fills my room

with the golden dust of its endless arms,

I peel the covers off my sweaty chest,

adrenaline receding from recurrent dreams of fight not flight,

stumbling past piles of clothes worn for strangers I call friends,

I see myself foggy behind water-stains upon the bathroom mirror,

I stand cold under streaming jets, pouring liquid on a hanging head,

then onto puddles, wrapped in frayed cloth, past rows of half-used bottles of soap,

I scrub the crusts of last night’s meal, mac n’ cheese in a box from a dollar store,

I spray lilies wildly in my hair, as the seconds tick through the humid air,

blotting rouge on a smile that says, "I’m fine, thank you. And you?"

***




Author Bio: Erika is a Food Science graduate student who writes poetry in her free time.