In the bath


She watches the water rise over the contours of her unfamiliar body; forming puddles in the absence of firmness, filling at last her once taut belly button.

She takes up more space than she used to.

Steam rises in excited escape, like the sweat of lovers from a once-sculpted canvas; breathing images that betray its history.

Lovers look up.

And she with eyes shut, too young to know she’s already beautiful.

Too aware to let strangers inside.

Yearning to get back home to endless time,

Analyzing the mistakes she has made,

Tragic endings,

Messages that were never sent, words never meant to be spoken.

She, who could have remained hidden behind her golden hair and genuine smile,

Understood the boys who would never be men.

She was never meant to be alone.

Each hand that caressed it took a part of her with them, but she more than them,

They were just an island, and she the ocean.

Screaming, startling all the pleasure into spirals

Carrying the weight of all the lost souls

She left pieces of her heart with each of them in case she ever needed to return

But we were young. Don’t forget.

She traces her finger over the scar that runs across the place that held all that she ever hoped for

Smiles pile high, knowing that centuries of women lay long enough to remember the body they once spirited.

Hearts looking for something to hold

Photographs etched in desire, postcards that send greetings from days of our youth

Flames flicker like summer’s stolen thrill.

Today this place is your home

Settle into this unfamiliar space

Hold on to this wave as it becomes clear.

You only missed it when you let go.

Memories can drag you down when you’re staring at your reflection anyway.

One thought on “In the bath

  1. Pingback: The Second Bath | Chasing Yellow

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