the last time you were here.
you brought a bar of soap with you
that you left before you walked away.
it provides a fragrant lather.
rinsing off, swirling around before being rinsed
down the drain.
although not forever, even bars of soap
have a shelf life.
it's expectancy dwindling with every use.
although you're not here, the bar of soap
you left behind is.
the question of masculine is not up for debate.
just as fleeting as every shower is.
i am not at all ashamed to say that it left
my skin feeling smoother.
the bar of soap gets thinner and thinner.
tossing in turning, scrubbing itself against my wash rag.
the doubt of you coming back is more evident.
the thinner this bar of soap gets.
if nothing else.
you can't say that I didn't think about you