Bathroom Door
Every droplet
of cold water that
rains on my face
drowns me
in solace
and wonderful thoughts,
like how words cleanse my soul and wash my sorrow down to the floor,
or how the ground thirsts the life brought by rain after an eternal drought.
But comfort
is overrated
and wonderful thoughts
never go
beyond the bathroom door.
I love the construction of this poem, beautifully put too.