waterfalls.

I climbed in, double checking
that the knob was turned to
the right, a tiny red H now in the middle.
Not enough.
Half an inch further, my skin turning pink,
becoming tender, but it's still inadequate.
I can almost feel my pores opening
and my dissappointment stumbling from each.
The mirror must be completely fogged, tiny beads
of condensation chasing each other to the bottom.
More the right and thick steam clings
to my lungs and my breathing is labored.
At once it's too much and not enough.
I clench my hands open, closed. Open again
and shut my eyes.
Hotter still, that screaming red H now occupies
the place formerly held by the little blue C.
My feet and legs are nearly crimson,
my blood coloring the skin nicely underneath.
I cannot, WILL NOT, move from under this
burning waterfall.
In short, I've read the letter you left in the door,
and I couldn't agree more.