I’m sitting on the edge of the tub

I’m sitting on the edge of the tub,

feeling my heart thump against my ribs.

The silence in the bathroom is so thick

I can hear the water dripping in the wall.

I found the stopwatch in a box of old shoes,

the plastic shell scuffed and turning gray.

I pressed start, and the numbers flickered

across a screen so faded I could barely see.

The 'split' button has a dent from my thumb,

a little hollow where I used to live.

I watch the milliseconds blur into a smudge,

counting the time I didn't know I was losing.