She stands across these past few months like staring down a calm ocean. Her thoughts are completely empty and she's wondering how did I ever make it out alive? Sinking to the bottom is my everything, my lingerie, and our photographs. Everything is a coldness she can't shake. Lightening crashes and her love was swallowed by the sea. It was too late to get out, and all she knew was this war for months, malnourished, lips cracked, eyes bloodshot as everything drowned. And then the silence. And the crystal clear mirror that was the ocean made her look very hard at how that ship sank. The bruises and the screams are stories too difficult to tell. She only tried to reach land by bearing through it, not really believing she'd actually make it, that she'd actually be here, that she'd actually be staring at the shipwrecked man. He lay like handsome prince charming in the sand, and for the tiniest moment, it was all not true. They still trusted each other and the sirens were leagues under the sea.