Bath Tub

A bath tub full of water. Once shiny now unkempt after years of neglect. Layers of porcelain, long since chipped. The interior more than eroded, flaking into bits from every edge. Beneath deep cracks and exposed bumps, lay rust and patches of yellowish, dull white. The bath tub itself sinks deep into a floor whose foundation, originally poorly made, came into a curve beneath the center of the tub. She lay her fingers on the edge of it all, the bath tube full of Luke warm water and bubbles. She blew five kisses to the wind and sunk her head under the murky surface. The sharks of her imagination where mere prisms of dust and visions of virus and disease. She bathed on, held her breath as long as she could. She promised herself she would clean it all up tomorrow.