Coffin Tub

The last time I gripped my arms around my knees that tightly 
was the shower after I found her dead on the floor five
years ago I twisted the knob to the left flooding
the tub with scalding water only to be frozen laying
face up waiting for it to creep up my chest and then
my neck and finally my eyes would close and it would be dark and warm. 
The tile pressing against my side reminds me of the pain I tried to wash away 
and forget about, but that hollow throbbing sensation in my left hand 
tells me once more it will never go away. I should probably scrub the mold out
of the corners, and I should replace my shampoo and conditioner, 
but the heat of the droplets tells me I’ll find myself 
another five years from now squeezing the veins in my palm until 
the pain subsides and I can climb out of the tub.