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I write a lot of my poems from my bathtub floor Soaking up sadness til the water gets cold Til my silence grows old Til my tears meet the water And the stanzas are told  
You can’t burn some memories Fire becomes them Til they darken like ash Blowing in the smoke she exhales But do not breathe them in Do not step in the ash Or the flames for that matter
In high vaulted walls, the steam does curl  and in another world, I lie submerged   The delicate brush  of velvet warmth
Bath the queen the traditional way Time made to bath Dwelling in riches Lost paradise Enchanted petals Power Magnified Sweet champagne sipped in bliss Cellulose sponge dribbling warmth down my back
Silence;              was a man i once ‘loved’ he said he lived in the bath that perhaps                if i held my head                                      below water 
Summer sun rises, Bobbing above the water. It fizzes and turns, letting the most beautiful shades of lemon and tangerine engulf its surroundings. I bask in its citrus sent.
Welcome to the quiz. There will be three items, each a different type of question.   Scores will be determined by honesty and creativity.   Respond to the best of your ability.  
My head hurts. My bag is heavy. I feel it pull my shoulders down to my aching feet; To the ground. My back, oh my back. The brisk wind slaps me. My bones ache. My body stiff against the attack.
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