I’ve often thought how ironic it is
that what could keep me dead, keeps me alive. I think I was expecting to
die, instead the salt water
washed away my sins, and set my soul free; a mermaid without a tail.
You can’t drown me now; I
learned how to drown myself and I’d
rather choke on ocean foam than swim
in strangers’ beds, I’d rather
break my board than break my spine
, under the weight of loving someone
who isn’t mine.
I used to think that snow looked pretty until the sun savaged my skin and
the reef bled me dry. The wind stopped
howling evil words in my ear and whispered stories on how to love myself.
I
still don’t know
how to swim, I’m barely
floating on the
surface. All I know is;
I am nothing
out of the ocean and I
lost myself at sea. Don’t find me; don’t
try to find me. I’m not afraid
of drowning, I’m not afraid of wiping out. Not anymore.
The sea monsters are my friends.
There is a liberation to be found when I escape to
breathe out of white water,
the same element electrifying my bloodstream
; slapping me awake from this stoic
reverie called
human existence,
societal routine. Give me
a shot of
adrenaline, a dose of liquid summer. We are high on the drugs of life and my
GOODNESS it feels good to be addicted. May the ocean meet the sky to remind me I am
alive, and then maybe I’ll come crawling back to shore
after one last wave. One more. Maybe.
What else is there to say?
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