Drawing you a hot bath I ponder displacement of water and wash cloth movements. Then I relapse as only a drug addict can. Tracing images on medicine cabinet's mirror. Heart and arrow forevers. Bone and dust vendettas. Spilling out of basin climbing back up slick sides When you arrive I mutter something about us needing, "new towels". Then I retreat, back to the front room. Knowing full well I'm a liar. You motion me to join you. I decline out of guilt and fear and love and space. My mind concludes To much weight. For such a short time.