Forlorn, floating in an ocean
that is not my ocean
a cacophony of foreign tongues and beer bottles
bang against my thighs
leaving bruises like souvenirs
or the memory of good luck kisses.
I am an island
littered with the debris of
another world
breathing and floating and trying
to reach you
like the swans
gliding through ****, dipping down
to gobble up things invisible
because I can only find you
when my eyes are closed.
You melt against my tongue before
I have a chance to swallow.
The freewrite that preceded it: "My heart quickens with the realization that I am floating forlorn in an ocean of foreign voices and clinking glass bottles. Plastic fragments that refuse to be broken down and instead amass themselves around me. An overwhelming island of debris. Breathing and floating and trying not to let myself sink into waters that stink of sewage and blatant disregard. Before. Before. Before, I stood watching the swans glide through ****, dipping down to gobble up things invisible to me. Reaching blindly through the garbage and distractions of another world, my mouth tastes something familiar. I can only find you when my eyes are closed. I try to savor the moment before the reek has a chance to permeate my senses. You melt against my tongue before I have a chance to swallow. My nose is already deadened by their cigarettes. My hands are numb from trying to find yours. "