I drop my clothes and they beat through the air with
A deep
Dark
Thud.

The water turns my toes blue.

I swallow salt like you
Swallowed me,
The vitamin to keep my bones strong
Wrings out my tongue.

The water licks my waist.

I feel my heart finally burst:
The coldness ate me, and my white flag
Rolled in
With the roaring white caps.

The water whispers in my ear.

I have never
Entertained suitors other than you,
My blue cacophony.
At last,
At long last,
My eyes search up and see

The Water.

You closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. You closed your eyes on me. There was something about your shutter-speed, that curtain-call, that eyelash-escape. If a door closes that never was opened does its swing still reek of creaking finality? You closed your eyes on me, but I’ve only ever seen your eyelids. There’s some humor in that—my gaze ricochets when you close your eyes. Myself, I play Sisyphus: chasing their constant motion uphill only to eventually realize my curse and slide down subjected to eternity. A forever of the ****** function designed to exclude. I had a dream once that I caught you, eyes open, staring into forever from the wing of a plane. I was dying of thirst and leapt into you, landing on the horizon of your attention. The black of your eye saw me there, but quickly grew tired and retreated under a thick, peachy veil of resolute disinterest.

They were every beautiful color the world had ever set right.

Red, Yellow, Blue, Green, Pink, Purple, Orange
All grown from the green and taught to worship the blue.

But how could I ever tell you what
I was worshiping?

You,
You flowers,
Six-handed-many-mouthed
Beings of impenetrable soul and ***** knee,
You,
Who that same day had only just let me show you how to make a mudpie,
You,
Who nearby looked on, disinterested, but I knew better,
You,
who held the shovel and a discerning eye.

You who I would rain for,
You who I would kneel for,
You who reminded me not to be so sentimental when
They're only flowers after-all.

Flowers planted carefully in my dry ground.

When I blink those flowers become forests and you run through them,
Barefoot and starry-eyed.
You forgot their source,
But it never
Really
Mattered,
Did it?

If you can, just find a way to let me know if what we really planted that day is growing.

He's right, you know.

Somewhere,
A sweet drop falls hesitantly
Into the dark, dark well that runs
Underneath us all.

You can barely hear it,
But I feel the echo all through my bones.

Forever is such a long time to fall.

Someday,
Somewhere,
We will all collide again.

In stardust,
In soil,
In the sweeping memories we will force ourselves
To forget
Because their sting will only ever be as real as we once were to each other.

Oh, we will feel each other again,

But only through a gasping for air and the horror of that
Dark,
Dark,
Well
Resurfacing from our eyes.

The most beautiful thing in the world is disappearing.
Eyes half-shut,
Eyes, half-shut,
Infinity.

The most beautiful thing in the world is your
Hungry,
Still-searching eyes,
Always unsatisfied,
Only ever somewhat watching anything other than the reachable nowhere.

I don't see anything in your eyes
And I think that's the point.

Famished,
Poor, and
Crawling
You exist,
Stomach curling
And stirring bones in its wake.
You exist but only over the horizon.

Searching for the furthest thing you can see,
Searching for what lies beyond that,
Looking for the grayed creatures above your touch
But
More than that,
Raining thoughts upon them like a curious god
Only just remembering
His own power,
His own creation--
Wondering how they're holding up away from you.

You miss them,
And you've been dying to see them.