I met you at the pier, and your shadow was red, but the contrast of the blue ocean made me feel symmetrical in the moment. You made me feel like quiet was the new loud; that this wasn't going to be "kiss and tell," even if there was a lack of fireworks in a dark room but mention of them on paper in harsh daylight. I never heard your heartbeat. Was that a sign? Cause when I finally felt it I felt the void in you, which in turn made me feel the void in me. Still, I didn't think your heart was capable of binding me like you bound your notebooks. But you mixed the chemicals right. And I do remember drowning, both voluntary and not. Just like I remember the eels. Just like I remember the cold. Just like I remember hearing the celebration above with a mouthful of salt. I've always been a fish out of water. So maybe I belong with the M.D.'s.