they find her
in the white tub,
water cresting at the top,
now cold.
her body pale and limp,
nearly grey,
her arms draped
over the sides.
the blood from her wrists
has turned the water
pink, in taffy swirls,
it has pooled
in one puddle on the black
and white tile.
there is no note.
nothing can be found.
there is food in the oven,
still warm. the table set,
the t.v. on.
her clothes are on the bed
ready to be worn.
she seems to have just
changed her mind,
about many things
and moved on.
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