Another relationship has slowly filled this rusting tub,
drop after drop it has now come to a halt.
It rests in perfect balance, still and contained from overflow.
Then, almost like a child having a temper tantrum,
or a piercing scream in dead silence,
it is disturbed.
The water thrashes and jerks against the worn down sides,
the white tile begins to crack underneath the pressure,
releasing drop after drop in a slow, staggered pattern
like tears leaving a heartbroken eye,
they reek of memories.
The water becomes motionless.
Hanging in the air is the scent of salt,
the floor is covered in a sheet of our water,
the aged vessel has yellowed even more,
and fingers of fractures sprawl up the tinged exterior.
Slowly the plug is wrenched out from the cloudy body of water.
The water circles clockwise as it vanishes faster than it ever filled this hollow bin.
The drain gurgles as it gulps down what was left of us.
I watch as it drags down the last few bits and peer at the bottom.
That is when it plops down.
A single drop to fill an empty tub.