You were the break
From everyday life
That I needed.
The chance to relax,
To draw a hot bath
And let the warm water
wash away my worries.
Your love was the
Hot water that filled the tub,
And lured me in.
Your touch was like bubbles,
Soft and gentle
Across my skin.
The steam that
Filled the bathroom
Clouded my vision
And coaxed me into relaxation.
But even a blissful bath
Grows cold,
And with hesitation,
The lukewarm water is released.
Swirling down and down,
Exposing more and more
To the cold air.
And I am left in denial,
Laying in a cold, empty bathtub,
Staring at the white washed ceiling
Mourning the water's retreat.
YOU ARE READING
Writings to the Moon
PoetryMy readers are the witnesses to these jumbled thoughts that crash and collide in my head, that my fingers from the letters to words that work their way into sentences that become stories and tales for your brain to pull apart into sentences and word...
