tonight she used a face scrub

a carefully measured amount of that fancy moisturiser

a routine so self-conscious that it yells ‘minamalism!’ quietly from beneath every 

lush pot lid

not a step out of place. 

for her next trick-

a carefully selected line-up of mug, teabag, honey, honey

if you listen carefully, you can hear the worry

the sound of fingernail chipping under tooth 

under the whistling of the kettle.

scene cuts to hands on skin

lotion on legs (shaved),

her hands do not shake because they are not supposed to here

not while the music plays the background music for the climax

and the candle burns

in just the right light

(soft, warm, brightness low, instagram filter ‘slumber’)

this is what self-care looks like.

Categories: Poetry