Clean

Upon feeling overwhelmed by the world
by a growing to-do list, by finals, by too many thoughts in my head

I clean.
laundry will do, but dishes are my favorite.

I love the rhythmic repeating and repeating of motions
circular scrubbing,
circles
circles
circles
until the pile of once dirty plates and bowls and glasses and stress
is dripping dry
and my mind is a little calmer

That's what I was doing when you stopped by my apartment.
I was cleaning.

You tried to get my attention
insistently placing yourself in my path

I had a goal I was determined to achieve
I needed to clean
I needed that calming rhythm
your presence was an annoying distraction, a disruption in the melody of order that I was conducting

You told me to calm down
to slow down
told me that I was scaring you
how quickly I was going
how focused I was
I needed more dishes
I wanted more things to clean
circular scrubbing
circles
circles
circles
until they were free of blemishes and imperfections

Finally, I bored you enough that you were ready to leave
you asked
no
you demanded a good night kiss
and you put your hands on me
reminded me why I was in a frenzy in the first place

A week and a half before this.
the night we met
when you touched without permission
took things that didn't belong to you

afterwards
I felt dirty
blemished
unclean.

I wish i knew how long I spent in the shower
scrubbing at my skin
scrubbing circles
circles
circles
circles
never feeling clean
never being able to reach deep enough to remove the marks you left on me
no soap was strong enough to erase the scarlet letter I was sure was branded across my chest
maybe it was just all that scrubbing
rubbing my skin raw so that I couldn't remember how it felt to have your hands corrupt the secrets of my flesh

I denied you a good night kiss
and told you to leave.

I went to bed, exhausted
I had cleaned myself out
my hands were dry and cracking
my back, sore and tight

I forgot you.
slowly but surely
let you fade away from my body's memory
a stain on my past that has finally been washed away.

still, even now
when the world is overwhelming
i clean.
laundry is good, but I prefer dishes.
prefer the repeating, circular rhythm.

but I no longer feel the need
to clean
my own skin.

I am not dirty or blemished or broken
not any more.