My bath tub

IF my bathtub was filled with memories, just sweet memories, instead of water, I would be welcome to lie at the bottom && drown myself in them.....to forget about everything, everything I would have to worry about in the future, forget about my mother. my Mother who can’t hold me when I want to, who wanted to cradle the needle instead of her daughter, My father, who forgot me....&& letting the water rush over to brain wash me, to wash the hate I feel for this man, to wash him away just like dirt on my body....I want to forget about everything, As I drown in the sweet memories of a clean mother && a caring father I felt like I am living another life. But these were my memories, mine to hold, to cradle, && care about. Warm summer days, driving in the car with my mommy singing...like we did, or just listening to promises my father would never dream of keeping but for the moment, I believed him. I myself wanted to live in those moments for the rest of my life, but apart me, and the rest of them just died out and I lost everything. MY home, my world crumbled into pieces, and so did my heart. So a little girl looks back at me in the water with lost eyes, but when I look in the mirror I see a woman, a teenager, looking for that began in the light to lead her back home. But sadly my bath tub is not filled with sweet memoires, just water. And water is made to wash off filth, not anger, tears, or grief. SO I lay in my bath tub, water soaking my skin reminding me of everything I went through as a child, so instead sweet memories, I soak in a broken childhood…soak in what I know won’t change anything, I can’t drown in what I’d like to call happiness because there is barely enough left in me to drown in. So I go deep in water washing the rest of myself away, the part of me I just can’t manage to scrub off, the of part me I call Emalee.





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