Bubbles by Liv Elise Douglas

Drinking alone again
on a Tuesday afternoon.
She sits in the bathtub
wearing a crown of bubbles
And her bruises
in a lovely shade of summer yellow.
She laughs as she sings
the days of the week to herself
like a child in school.
Twinkle twinkle Saturday night
How the fuck did anything go right
Was it Sunday night
Soon it's Thursday day
She must go out to earn her pay.
The word work sits in her calendar
reminding her to go out and be responsible.
The day after tomorrow anyway.
Right now, it’s five o’clock somewhere,
It’s Friday night in her working world
And her crown sparkles in the candlelight.
Tomorrow and yesterday are ignored
As she lets the phone ring out
She practices apologies in the dark
she’ll have to give eventually
a toast made to the teammates
she just said her goodnights to.
Let the bubbles take her
Among the twinkling stars for a while instead.

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“This piece was made out of random thoughts while I was struggling with burn out and panic attacks, not caring for myself properly. It was trashed after returning to it and worrying it was raw childish whinging.”

Liv Elise Douglas is a third generation nerd and IT helper. She loves sci-fi and fantasy, and likes to investigate how people and technology develop in current times.