What you leave behind

You trip and drip, like water I can never miss nor predict you
slippery, you like a drop I can no longer catch slide out, draining
and you occasionally rumble, so loud I hear a sea storm at your gargle-cup
A storm beyond my calm. Funny I always find you by what you leave behind -
A trail in the overflow of open taps,
an unmerciful squeeze in toothpaste, its teeth-dented cap
Few hairs near the drain, grime in the sink, a used towel where you forget your features
my morning sighs and everywhere else patches of blue.
There's always a gradation of blue when I lose you,
another shade darker for when you lose yourself
Azure pins itself in our secrets, on our walls,
but navy and red badges cover my wrist, these grips, blow your overweight tenderness.
My favorite royal blue I do not wear, too much darkness shows sleepless nights.
the morning light is clear, It is a good thing I scrub the bath you (by pure assertion
chose to obsessively paint blue) to sparkle each morning
I clear off what remains of you from the white brinks
I scrub you off me, off my wrists and face bleak
scrub off your ocean-blue eyes,
your blue voice mellow with last night's jazz and transparent Absolute
It's a good thing you left the door open for air today
As I scrub light white I leave you hanging at the door, a voice and I
question how darker - in shades of blue - do I need to turn before I regain my white skin.