I used to make little whirlpools with my finger,
In the dark
When I was a bubble, you couldn't hear my pop
I landed back in the cold water
Bleach to sanitize, never enough
My eyes were bloodshot underwater
And I dove to the safest place
The bottom of the sea
The sea shells were never real
And neither was your face
The pressure in the trench would take my breath away
Float to me, I always screamed
But I was too busy chasing the light.

You're still a child
fighting the dark asphalt
to find your mommy again
she's lost you to the cold
wanted posters cloud the telephone poles
where have you been?
She asks.
You've spent your whole life trying to answer her.

The perfect woman
looks like me and you
breath down her neck
hairs standing tall
unholy mistakes rewritten
on the bathroom wall
The sharp heel stabs to ****
her own heart with.

Mistakes, I'm guilty
of faking a smile with you.

A sea of sweet, bitter gulps
the truth is so far away from me
it sweeps me here like dust, I am
back to the soil
where the flowers slow dance in the place
they've always been
tough and sturdy
reliant, time and time again
with branches and leaves
and books and time
and grapes melted in my throat
help me be here, stay here
with me.

One of my favorite things you do
Is mumble in your sleep
A wispy whisper, secrets only we know
Underneath heavy sedation,
The comfort of avoidance
Life wanders off, forgetting us
Cotton fresh and messy hair
The sun doesn't dare bother us
Anything matters only in these short breaths, enclosed.

She's alive! I gasp
Waking in the saturated falseness of my dream
I drive for hours every time
Just to see you proud of me again
Are you proud of me again?
Your tired eyes pierce my rest
And I always fall for it over and over
Knowing well I'm stuck in a bubble of lies
I'll still look for you, frantically
To tell you what I never said.

When the world knows who to look for
And how to spend their seconds
What will you say when
Your palms are empty with choices?
When the clicks are in tune without you and
Their sounds know where to go
When you run to find the oceans
Have all but dried up
And you've been looking in all the wrong places
What will you have left, to call yourself?