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Warm golden curls
Swirling beneath the surface
A porcelain crater
Filled to almost overflowing
Delicate toes
Tickled by the current
Bronzed summer legs
Tipped up in relaxation
I love the way the water is just the right temperature. I love the way the subtle heat unlocks my muscles and lets the tension flow out. I love the dappled light on my skin. I love the way my legs and side break the surface like new continents. I love this bath.
Megan Hammer Aug 5
Maybe Bath, UK - a warm summer’s day
There he is, standing there counting heads
With his hands behind his back
Plastic bags filled with red solo cups and whiskey

On a plaza square where the band plays
Waiting to see something
They’ve all got their cameras out, looking around
Looking the wrong way

While I looked as he just stood there
laughing to himself, just smiling
Sees me, motioning for me to come to him
Looking as if he knows something they don’t

Looking me up and down
Seeing past the white clothes
I grin because I barely know him
Because I know him so well
She flopped in bath with water.
In such a hot and scalding.
Filled with own disappointments and empty hopes.
Katie Jun 29
You don’t text or call,
Not when I needed you to.
I sit in the bath.
It’s hot, that’s the first thing on my mind.
As the sweat starts to form,
I think of all I’ve done wrong  
As my cheeks turn pink from the heat,
I ask myself why I deserve this.
I want to get out,
But I can’t seem to stand.
I want to fall asleep,
But I can feel my heart beat.
It’s beating so fast,
Like my chest will explode.
I wish you would text
Or call, I don’t know.
gaia Jun 22
my hair surrounds me like a halo,
fingers of keratin, adrift like seaweed.
softer in the pale bathwater,
silkier in its soapy film.

my phone is on the toilet seat.
i count how pearls of water fall from the shower head,
pipes and joints loose from wear.
after 20 i let the water pool over my cheeks,
settle over my eyelids,
bubbles surging to the surface impatiently.

submerged, i let the starvation in my lungs grow urgent,
a sleepy thrill i can play with to pass the time,
as i wait for my phone to never ring.

we used to lie together in my room watching
my walls become immersed with citrus,
and how remnants of day
would soak into the earth and the walls and the houses.
i would love to watch the watered down grapefruit
undulate in the horizon amongst milky clouds.

you are newly adrift; pace has taken a liking to you.
you dance from place to place as if being chased,
but i am no different than before.
i feel like i could lie on my bed watching the sun droop
for hours.
Nigdaw Jun 21
I want to go to bed but my daughter is in the bath again; we're gonna have to pay on a meter soon, (it seems it's a privilege not a right), so I wonder how much all those drops will cost, I'll just have to cough up, baths are an essential of a girl's life and I couldn't stand the whining if I said it's showers from now on; I don't get baths, immersed in hot water, gradually turning cold, swimming in all your own sweat, (human soup), "They help you relax" she says, RELAX! she's not the one paying the bills, stressing over where the next meal is coming from; all I'd think of is the things I could be doing instead of wallowing, old people die in baths, some even drown in them, some husbands take a bath with an electrical appliance (plugged in, courtesy of the wife), John Haigh dissolved his victims in the bath in sulphuric acid, showers every time for me, wash away the dirt down the drain, with all the stress of the day; bath bombs, what's that about, not some sort of terrorist threat, it's smelly stuff that sort of explodes when put in water, impregnating the skin with smells and potions, (human potpourri), I just want to go to bed, I'm tired and have work tomorrow, what the **** does she do in there for hours on end.
Daughters and baths, I give up.
Autmn T Jun 8
And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.
Bullet Apr 15
The foist emptying out remedies
Sweet bath in our cooked sins
Mixing our pours of ***** works
While the red runs thin when hit with warm water
I'm out as it drains I'm hoping so will my pain

Feet are made for healing though
A trip doesn't only just mean falling
Steam, those clouds are relaxing
Anxious, bruised feet come with long legs
Picking them up wondering if I can be me
Working has me stressing for some reason
But showers beat baths by going first
Music can break you free to help tune out the noise
Light beams drying clean remedies
Walking to the next day is hard at times
Defeat belongs on backs of achieving
Blood bath soaked the soul to drain out negative vibes

Water pollute the ear to the noise
I can see the depth it takes me

Blood Bath
Don't judge a book by its cover
Could we regard
Monsieur Pierre Bonnard
as an artist
whose kindness shone brighter
than his best hues?
Is it vital to search for spaces the contours of light,
in the unnamed wilderness?

Didn’t he draw
this aqua bath with discrete joy?
I may need not to know
whose skin will glow,
but imagine her

The body moving
in space through time
The mind dancing
gears of thought.
like sparkling dew
on the high window.

I might have seen it myself
A state Bonnard lived in,
or aspired to?
stretched out,
stress free,
in a Bonnard bath,
not briefly
but eternally.
Went to Pierre Bonnard exhibition at Tête Morden with friends who loves Pierre Bonnard’s painting.
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