Paint chips float in the bathwater
With lavender sea salt
And a splash of whiskey on the mat
I sip it slowly, barely
Warming up from in inside out
And outside in
6 in the morning to 8 in the evening
or later, who knows, if he’s still there
But sometimes the hours don’t matter
Sometimes the hours don’t matter
It is the kind of thing that can break you apart
When I moved in, a year and more back
They painted the bathtub
Called it renovation along with the new countertops
And cabinets and floors and wide porcelain sinks
But they painted the bathtub
It chips
I peel it off with my fingers
It’s ugly, my bathtub
But as I sink in on my hands and knees
Easing into the heat
I see all the ugliness and don’t care
I don’t care at all
And take myself all the way down
An hour and more later
I haven’t finished the whiskey
I wonder who’s still working
I wonder why I’m not
But my eyes have been lead since noon
And there were seven and a half hours after that
But sometimes the hours don’t matter
I want to make my hours matter
I’m trying to make my hours matter
My lead eyes scroll through fanart
And unfinished stories
This morning and this evening
Habits breaking today to nurse
My chipped unresolve
The resolve resets with the dawn