Bathroom Floor

Lock the door.
Throw myself on the floor.

It's hard.
It's cold.
It's refreshing.
A puddle slowly growing from the stream of hurt that flows from my face.

All alone. No one here.
Me and the bathroom floor.

I'm free.
I can feel what I feel.
I can unapologetically cry.
Cry hard.

I can think.
Sort through the good and the bad.
The bad; it brought me to this floor.

All the moments in my head; moments where we fell from grace.
We turned unkind.
Against each other.
We brought pain and confusion.
We gave up...in those moments.

So I lay here.
In a place of truth.
Can't hide from myself here.
Me and the bathroom floor.

I'm bare.
I'm ashamed.
How did I get here? Why am I on this floor again?

Then, the stream slows.
Dammed up by brave eye lids and deep breaths.

I'm OK. 
I'm vital.
I love. I am love.

We break down.
We need to break down. 
We'll figure it out.

Deep breaths.
Me and the bathroom floor.

And I realize, I am not alone.
How many lives changed on the bathroom floor?
How many tearful epiphanies on the bathroom floor?
How many rock bottoms to the first courageous step on the bathroom floor?
How many re-do's, start- overs, I'm sorry's, I forgive you's on the bathroom floor?

We are safe here.
You, me, and the bathroom floor.