i sit,
quiet still shivering
with you
in a white porcelain bathtub
full of tepid water
that's rapidly turning cold.you find me
drying myself
by lying in a crumpled fetal position
on the mattress
whose sheets now have
a large wet spot.the towel lies discarded
on the floor
as i picture you in the doorway
shaking your head and leaving
and i remember exactly
the sound of the slamming door.
