I'm Ophelia in the bathtub

Guilt and sin my heavy robes

that pull me to a muddy death of solace

where you, my Laertes,

all tears fittingly withhold

My head haloed with floating tresses

Uncertainties are my hand-picked wild flowers

I wait for the wick to kindly extinguish

But rise in a resurrection's cold water hour

Jealous of death's accidental mermaid lying beneath

the willow tree

Raising myself, undertermined, to goosebump's glitter

the reality of being me