who takes baths anymore?
just to soak - to think about life,
or find inner peace
beneath a soapy mirror.
half dead candles burning, that wildly
flicker off the window
distorted by the spout's steamy breath.
and underneath, secrets lie
felt by island sand
scrubbing away the memory of you,
from skin and mind.
at last, the drain drinks down
all evidence of our love -
until I see you again.
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