Let the hot water run over your brittle shell. Washing away the sting.
It is the closest to comfort. The illusion of a warm embrace. You want it as hot as you can get it. Renew your body. Wake up the will inside that has frozen over.
Each stream running its course into the drain.
Anger. Loneliness. Anxiety. Fear. Sinking through the pipes.
Finally. Cleansed of the world. Your strength grows.
You open the door and the cool air crashes in. Piercing your once again, vulnerable skin.
Before you break, you retreat. Back into the refuge.
From Her Fortress 