Life as a Poet Knows It
Life as a Poet Knows It

No Baths

by Jordan Warren 3 years ago in sad poetry

8/6/2017, #10

No Baths

I beg off baths

Claiming my limbs too long

to fold themselves

Inside the tub

I site discomfort and joints like glass

The sad sick truth is, really,

My mother would run a bath

Hot enough to turn her pink

I, a small child, ear pressed to the door

With the thrum of running water

Singing in my ears

Beneath that sound, once soothing

Once pure

Once whole and bright and clean

I hear my mother sobbing

sad poetry
Jordan Warren
Jordan Warren
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Jordan Warren

University student || Poet || Adventurer || History buff || Bibliophile || LGBT

My writing deals mostly mental illness, LGBT themes, life as a student, life with chronic health issues and whatever else inspires me.

See all posts by Jordan Warren