Talking about different identities within.
Mine are like the tides.
One minute, I’m fine. Happy and laughing, smiling and talking,
and then slowly the tide recedes.
I sink as the ocean does,
revealing the less than radiant depths,
without the water to illuminate and reflect the small imperfections
and magnifying them as something glorious
and as a wonderful mystery of nature.
No. There are holes that dark creatures hide in,
and when they’re stepped on,
their retaliation is a spout just high enough
to drench your favorite white shirt in the murky bile
that is generally not spoken of.
I sink as the ocean does, alone.
Sometimes what is harbored beneath the waves ends up beached and stranded.
Alone. Left drying over in the sweltering sun,
helpless. I’m so sorry,
I asked you not to venture too far.
I warned you of the harsh reality
of my inability to remain stable enough
for you to stay happy for too long.
I rise as the ocean does.
An unexpected lift in hopes,
the broken shells beneath the tide are concealed.
The glimmering waters are blinding,
almost so much to the point where
you can’t see.