dated: 01/04/09
i emote in cursive
on my shower door
the steam morphs the glass into canvass
as the rain meets the floor
my finger is my pen
my glass is my paper
my contact is my ink
my mind is my mind
don’t mind me
i’m reminding myself of future memories
mindful that
when the rain stops meeting the floor
and the steam flows no more
the ink will melt like a witch in water
and maybe that’s what i want