I met gravity in the deep end. Saw that god is just a stadium light casting for bacteria at the bottom of menisci. When her hands held me under, I forgot my name.
Seven years later, the water remembered me. A force timed and terrible dicing my skin, grinding my scalp into unsieved wine. Three point eight billion years came and went, a single exhale.
One day the ocean will consume me. Sheβll claim my eyes, pick my bones. Then pluck what is left and bury it under the weight of every raindrop. I have heard her pacing the foot of my bed. I have smelled myself on her breath.