There's a point in a hot bath where
the boiling water feels cold
and I'm reaching to turn the faucet
and I'm reminded of how hot her skin was the last time I touched her.

Then I blink, recount,
and let my lungs fill with condensation.

I’ve never touched a woman in a way that carries weight.
Never felt a tongue in my mouth and counterfeit nails rake down my arms.
I've never slipped into an apocryphal world where I am palatable and appeal
and publicly posed as the sort of girl who has done any of this before.

And then I step out of the tub and dry off in front of my hazy reflection,
fat even with steam shrouding my shape,
and I remember that I was dumb enough to trick myself into believing that any woman would look at me the way I watch my phone screen at night with the brightness all the way down.

I guide myself to my room and let myself shiver.
My skin is red. 
Sort of like how my face gets
when she rolls the windows down during winter
and the streetlights illuminate her face so dreamily,
and she is singing along to some song I dont know.
My face stings from the wind,
but shes having fun so I scream made up lyrics.

I shut my bedroom light off and lay on top of my itchy comforter
with the boiling water no longer running raw, but still burning my skin.