Beneath the Surface

There used to be days where the sea met my toes and my hair would tangle and salt would stick to my skin. I would lie down along the midnight shores and listen to echoes of madness. The darkness would swallow me up, its soft, feathery insides. I remember tears, my throat closing in, silent, static. Cold air would seep into my bones. Wet, distant, lonely. A permanent malignity sifting through the chaos of my mind.

drawing down the moon

I don't know where to start. I'm living with what seems to be an incredibly mundane lifestyle with some bliss, a touch of sadness, but mostly confusion. Tangible days. I wish I could say something. Really anything about this. It would be healthy of me if I could. But this is as much as I will be able to get out of me. "Another layer of closure" My watery eyes know what my heart feels like. They are embracing this feeling like it might be the last touch of me they will ever know. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Maybe it doesn't mean as much to me as I thought it would. It comes in waves. One hour everything is sailing, but so swiftly my thoughts divert back towards us. I feel a crash against the shore. Give me time because it's the only thing I have to keep you from me.