I'm sitting in the bathtub

new dress
old notebook
tired mind

and 

for some reason i feel like i could sit for hours

into the night 

until it the light seeps through the little window

bathing me 

The tub is dry

it has let go of the baths that 

had once been taken

letting go of it's lover

for the night

it's dry 

and tomorrow is a new day

and 

the cycle will repeat

I've always liked taking baths

to just soak and think

and think and soak

i'd like to say that 

it may be one of the best things that i do

when the wet skin and steam decide to kiss

on my dry parched skin

they fill every crevasse and wrinkle

and scar and dent

and every space in between

the granite is smooth

the tub is plastic porcelain

or so it seems;

water marks stain the crisp white 

from the stories untold

songs sung that will never be heard

speeches spoken that will never be told

 writers lose their minds 

artists learn to see once more

Ankita Bhat