she carried me to the sink. she acquired me so long ago. she has cried into me. she has wiped tears off her face with me.
we have grown accustomed to each other. i know her every supple detail. she knows my soft, warm touch. we know each other too well it seems.
today, she carried me to the sink. the water started. the wrath of liquid poured out and filled to the brim.
i did not expect her to do this. i know we loved each other.
she told me so much about her life even though i couldnt talk back. i was stuck inside myself so even my own thoughts couldnt escape.
i was a washcloth
i submerged into the liquid and it surrounded me and soaked into me and burned every part of me
and i didnt want to think about it how she put me here and if i was just a ******* washcloth iād still be on the shelf
but i was still her washcloth.
the liquid became a part of me it absorbed so deep and it was just liquid but it was also what it meant
it was the joy it was the hate it was the beginning and the end it was the concept of life
and it was swirling around me and immersing itself into thoughts i didnt even know i had she plunged me deeper and made it perhaps lethal
because i didnt know i was just a washcloth
but then the worst part came
the part where she just left
the part where i was left out to dry except i was still engulfed in misery the part where she could have rerisen me and wrung me out like i was a washcloth
was i meant to drown like this by this girl that picked me up off the shelf was i better than the other washcloths or was it just because i was there
so i sat there drowning in the water and i wanted to scream and i wanted to cry the liquid out of myself but i was a washcloth soaking in water
i wanted to look up out of the sink and see shining fluorescence but i couldnt see because i'm just a washcloth
instead i made my own light i got closer and i saw it all go by