dropping the soap...

she could feel her mind escaping from her body. it drifted above her and sat on the windowsill. her hands still touching her face-washing away the night. She watched as the water droplets danced on her freckled arm every morning in the sunlight, wishing she had her camera. She admired that single beam of warmth on her skin-savoring it, like it was art. All of her best thinking was done in the shower...the bad thoughts swept away in one quick motion. She grabs her towel and gathers the remaining thoughts that are stuck to the walls of the shower. This is where she separated the good from the bad that lived inside of her...this is where she dropped the irish spring.