An Epiphany in a Cup

I light up before chores—

it sets my brain mode to focus.

While I wait to reach the peak,

I knock out the tedious tasks.

I'm there—

my space is controlled.

I wash dishes.

Scalding hot water.

I save the cups for last—

they make the most

silky bubbles.

I swirl them,

getting lost in the feeling.

How soft.

How comforting.

I look down at my old hands—

but now they are younger.

My reflection in the window is 15.

Maladaptive daydreaming.

Scenes of myself hating-

the responsibilities,

fighting them.

I recall a specific moment—

the one where she called me

unkempt

unworthy of companionship.

I see it now.

Her lack of care for my existence

made me stop caring, too—

for my well-being,

my duties.

The water shifts from hot

to warm—

now cold.

The bubbles

are like a hug on my skin.

How stupid can that be—

that someone

could have that kind of power

over me.

...Not anymore.

I shake off the water,

shedding that feeling.

My chores are done.