Shower

As the suds and acidic solution run down my back and into the dip in my spine you loved so much, I close my eyes and let the steaming monsoon engulf me. I feel the tiling beneath my fingers, slippery with condensation and soap, providing no handholds, no safety. I let the water run down that curve that you've traced so many times. You know the one I'm talking about. The on that slopes inward as it descends from the bottom of my ribcage to the tip of those hipbones. Those hipbones those hipbones that you would so viciously scavenge for. The bruises you left there are starting to fade now, so I lean back and ask the water, Hit. Me. Harder.