I sat letting the water get lukewarm and dirty
With eyelids drooping half closed to the damp air
Knowing that when I washed the grime away
The bruises would remain on pale legs
Legs I only half believe belong to me
Weak willed and clammy staring into filthy water
Letting the only thing fit to lick me
Candlelight
Do its best to cast me in some better shine
More suitable though is the cherry burn glow
The grey curls in the mist having no prayers to carry