by AJ Longabaugh

You stand on the gripped
floor of the shower,
rained on by the soon
to be scalding water that is
always predicted but never
assumed to be hot,
kind of like the girl
who is quiet,
and has a storm building
within her pelvis
and at any moment
the storm will crack
by the thrusts of her
tension until she needs
to take a breather.

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