it is she who ached to
run with rivers but
cried in currents
instead, held
her fury behind dark hair curling
in unruly ocean waves, a
certain safety in those
salt-soaked depths,
in tracing sorries on the shore for
the water to wash
away. she reaches for
the pearlescent perfection of
moonlight reflected in
the clear sea but the grit
of sand still clings to
her skin, still refuses the
glimmer of the mirror. with the ticking
of time, she watches it fade & fall away,
grains slipping down the inevitable
hourglass. she dusts off the shadow of
a past self but it remains hardened within,
worn & rounded into glass, illuminated
in the brilliance of colored light when
the sun hits her heart at the exact angle of
the 5AM sunrise, the warmth a welcome surprise. but other
days it stays, cold & dark, a black shard in the night, digging
between her cracking ribs & tired lungs. it is then that
the ocean returns, the swelling of tides & tears,
the stifled cry of the drowning & silent pressure of rising water, the familiar
taste of salt on the stormy waves
unleashed.
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