Bubble Bath

Sweet bubble bath, absorb me.

Smooth as buttermilk,

filling my senses with acrid lavender aroma. 

Distorted features through shifting blue, 

streaks of pale skin, rippling and dividing 

as reflected tranquillity.

Tempting seeking hands to 

break through the surface. 

Laying back in the tub, submerged.

Candle lit. Skin alight. 

Glinting foam obscuring draped limbs,

long legs dangling over the basin's edge,

bubbles lacing my frail physique,

delicate as gold leaf. 

Curling condensation and fragrant smoke

hanging on the gleaming tiles,

clouding my vision, a vapour shroud.

Slowly fogging the mirrors, 

censoring my lacquered reflection, 

protected from wandering eyes.

Dewy spheres bleeding down the glass,

forming fractured teardrop paths. 

Swaying dark tendrils floating,

melting my brave façade,

drifting across my tired pallor.

Sallow cheeks and sunken eyes.

Cracks in my perfect exterior.

Darkness as I hold my breath,

fragile passivity as I drown

in a sweet scented delirium.