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
i’d 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

the shelf

the girl

the sink

and one last time
the light