brushing my fingers
against the surface
of the water blue,
the depths, they whisper.
sweet words that belie
the tendrils that yearn
to drag me down, down.
to pull ‘til my lips
kiss the sandy floors,
and knuckles of those
who drowned before me.
Dec 28, 2023
Dec 28, 2023 at 8:43 PM UTC
brushing my fingers
against the surface
of the water blue,
the depths, they whisper.
sweet words that belie
the tendrils that yearn
to drag me down, down.
to pull ‘til my lips
kiss the sandy floors,
and knuckles of those
who drowned before me.