there is a bump
in the bottom
of our bathtub.

i have spent
a lot of time
there
taking back
the missing warmth,
under
my wrinkly skin
it forms.

i hear voices
outside
spitting venom,
breaking hearts
to remember
my heart
bled white
since
i was seven.

i hear voices
outside
but the loudest
will always be
my own.
they leave me
to kneel
at death's mercy
to whisper,
you'll always be
alone.

i think
no one knows
better
how to break
my heart
more than i do.