Ink & Interruptions

“Get up, please”

“No”

“It will help”

“No”

“I promise”

“No.”

Words splattered

Unheeded, ignored

Sure and convinced

That it’s not needed

The water helps

Washes, restores, renews

The soap feels nice

Cleansing, removing, erasing

The dirt clings

Building on the skin

Flaking off in the covers

Tucked away, protected

The smell grows intense

Drifting on the breeze

Covered by the smell of flowers

Every bottle running low

“It will help”

“No.”

“It has before”

“It’s too much”

“Just try”

“It’s too much”

Voices soft

Whispered pleas

A test of wills

Warring under the same skin

The energy needed

From the bed to there

Every step an exertion

Too much to give

It’s all too slow

From cold to warm

Lather, rinse

Too much to do

“Trust me”

I whisper, as I pull myself from bed

“It will help”

I urge, as the faucet spins

“I promise”

I say, as I push myself inside

“Breathe”

I murmur, as I go through the motions

Two minds

One clear. One heavy.

Each sure of the outcome

Both unwilling to budge

Outside looking in, it doesn’t make sense

“What do you mean?”

“Just do it.”

“It’s not hard.”

Maybe it shouldn’t be

But it is

To take the step

Complete the task

Some days

Nothing works

And others are the moment

After the shower

Refreshed

Renewed

Relieved