Painted gold

There is glitter

in my bath water.

A nebula of healing,

medicine and feeling.

It greets me

like a childhood home,

invites me to breathe

along with the swirls

and the ripples I make

because my heart is still beating

and I can wiggle

my fingers and toes.

It settles into the lines

in my palms and scratches

along my arms;

finds its way to my bones

to paint them in gold

and bend my ribs into smiles.

It sinks into my pores,

reminds me to pause;

prompts me to say my real name

rather than the ones I use

to abuse when I look at myself

in the mirror.

The name resounds,

loud, like the blood in my ears;

stains my lips, sticky

and moreish. It tastes like sugar,

the glitter in my bath water.


© Kristiana Reed 2019

2 thoughts on “Painted gold

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