We are drowning
not in water, but in silence,
each breath swallowed,
a hollow echo of what once was.

The sky forgets the blue it once wore,
now draped in smoke-thick sighs,
the wind hums of almosts and befores,
while hope slips away beneath the tides.

And the sun, now too tired to fight,
bleeds light into a sea that won’t remember,
its warmth wearing down
dying like a goodbye that came too soon.

Islands reach, grasping for air, for mercy,
fingers of earth, worn down by our neglect,
their shadows stretch, long and desperate,
suffocating beneath the weight of what we chose to ignore.

Plastic ghosts cling to the shorelines,
whispering lullabies in a language
we refuse to understand,
as they slowly choke on the promises we broke.

Every wave folds a secret into itself,
ice that cracks beneath the weight of silence,
echoes of futures we threw away,
suffocated by the choices we refuse to face.

Like writing a book where the plot is clear,  
yet still, you're caught by the ending,
the ending you could have rewritten
but chose instead to leave as it was.



We carve comfort into the sea’s bones,
etching “it’s fine” into rising tides,
yet every flood speaks what we won’t
this silence isn’t survival, it’s surrender.



(and here is a haiku based off of that <3)

I watch and I wait,
thinking it is not my fight
the tide swallows time.

we thought the sea's fate
was never ours to carry,
so we let it sink.

Footprints on wet sand,
washed away before I move
was I ever here?