As midnight hit, I lay in the warmth of a near spilling tub.
Silence pollutes four steamed walls, echoes of pitter-patter
From the infant upstairs, distant voices from the movie
My mother watched in another room, an occasional drip
Of the hot tap, the scrape of ink across damp paper,
A slurp of tea between my lips, are the only sounds.
I should have been washing, instead I thought of your hand
Caressing a blade across my legs, your shampoo soaked fingertips
Tickling at my scalp, your mouth pinching kisses from my *******,
Your eyes following soap suds descending down silky skin.
My chin rests upon my knee, tea leaks from wet lips
Staining a pale leg, dispersing beneath the surface,
The water browns, so I bathe in tea and sugar
The sweet stench unable to distract me from you.
