warm bath (for clay)

your eyes used to read me

they would flicker from one side to the other

and i’d wonder what you’d see

while you held your breath

 

i’d look back

in an attempt to tell you

all i could see were warm spring nights

with the windows open and the faint noise of whatever you wanted to do

 

the nook of your neck

felt the same way eons later

and i went back into a world

where the light was still soft and dim

like the dimly lit comfort of a warm bath

 

i don’t think

i could ever touch you

like the warm bath on my skin

each tuesday night

where i spent wondering where you were or

what you were up to

and maybe i’d

still love the feeling of a warm bath

the same time next week

 

and maybe you would look at me again

with the same intensity

as the feeling of the lavender soap in the bath

on my skin

as you once again made your mark on my heart

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