Bathing Suit

by S.W. 3 months ago in art

A thickly layered poem, filled with metaphor and symbolism. Enjoy.

Bathing Suit
Photo by Dvision Picture on Unsplash

I turned the key, opened the door and tossed the keys in the trash.

Half passed the hour, so I rolled up my cuffs and started a bath.

I turned off the lights and-

I eased into the waters warm embrace.

Letting the liquid soak into the fibers.

I loosened my tie and threw it over the running faucet.

Lit my damp cigarette and slipped down the tub, till my ears were under water.

The quiet hum of water pushing on my eardrums had a mesmerizing sound.

Puffing on my cigarette like a steamboat smokestack.

In a moment I had the faintest inkling that I might’ve gone insane.

If any sane person might’ve seen me they’d surely have locked me in a cage.

Like a parakeet, with little cups of pills and saltine crackers.

But I didn’t care today, and I lived alone.

My hands floated to the top, I enjoyed the feeling.

I felt deprived of something, but I wasn’t sure of what.

Steady breathes made my lungs feel like ballasts, with every breath rising and falling into the water.

The doorbell rang.

And I burst up, flicked my cigarette in the toilet.

I don’t have a doorbell.

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A poet by way of life. Words just came easy to me, though I may never write a bestseller. I just want you to feel understood. At the end of my work if we’re closer than when you started reading I’ve done my part.

See all posts by S.W.