bathtub poetry


I’ve always felt
In water, I know that
Science talks about
The displacement
Of fluid. I know
Is lighter.

I can float without
Trying. I am not
Caged inside this
Cumbersome creature.

I don’t need physics to
Explain my magic,
Mermaids have never even
Heard of Archimedes.

Be it a river on a crystal
Blue blistering August
Day or an ocean that
Glimmers under Ursa
Major. The soft embrace,
The stinging waves:

I am free here where
I am most myself.

     rusted metal left in the wastelands

         weeds climbing around the clawed foot

                              dragging the man made back to the earth

      half a jawbone, blackberry teeth

                 leftover crown of a kingdom long forgotten

          decayed tongue unable to tell lies

               dead dynasty, dead decadence

                                                                            (death by drowning)

         murky water collects in the hollow

                    Trace the curve of a dried up tap

                          dust and dirt

     fertile lake of lost love

                    lichen mat to prevent slips and tumbles

        EXCEPT there are blood stains on chipped porcelain

- Bathtub - K.Blair - In response to @julykings prompt


I. “The tide ebbs and flows
with my remains
with every hint of my being.
It takes off my legs
the dead roots
and washes away the ache.
The sea holds my body
through the night
and before morning comes,
the tide returns to my feet
with my fragments made into seeds.”

II. “I throw myself a ceremony
that nobody else will ever watch
I unstitch my atoms
and watch everything inside me
burst asunder
-all the holy, all the evil.
I let myself be nothing,
then, when it is time to return,
take with me the
rain and
flowers and
all that I am
-all the holy and all the evil,
And sew myself together again.”

Poetry by @luinthesunset​  (IG:

Photography by @electricloveux (IG:

Moonlight Art (

  • You know when you're soaking in a bath tub with your hair down, and at the beginning you are so cold from the outside air you can't wait for the warm water to fill.
  • But then it gets too full, and it gets the ends of your hair wet, so you drain it a bit. You don't want to shut the water off entirely because the noise soothes you.
  • But there's a moment both when your draining it and filling it up when it's perfect.. It warms your fragile body but doesn't touch your dry hair.
  • Love is like the running water in a bathtub. It has to be given an escape sometimes or it overflows. You get lost in it. It drowns you.
  • Love is like filling up a bathtub because there are moments where it's perfect. But also moments where it's too shallow and doesn't satisfy you. There are moments when it's perfect but also moments when it is too much for you.
  • Love is like filling up a bathtub because even though love is never perfect we never stop trying at it. Just like we never stop taking baths because that moment of perfection is worth the trouble.
  • Love is like filling up a bathtub because we go in cold and bitter and come out warm and always wanting more.
  • Love is like filling up a bath tub,
  • Because eventually
  • It runs cold
  • No matter how hot it burned at the beginning
fingertips like the undertow

the way i love your freckles is like the way i love the stars at night.

if you asked nicely i would crack the yolk that hangs in the sky and fry it for your breakfast in the morning.

i swear, if every firefly in tennessee could hear me sing on the nights when i’m most lonely, they’d move to these mountains and light your footsteps home.

the way i love you is clumsy and stubborn, but i will do my best to love you longer than i can hold my breath.

i cannot write love poems about fucking like i’m not sorry and being beautiful in the messiest ways, because i am not beautiful and i am not without apology.