He sprinkles salt in my wounds, gently, as every word digs deeper and deeper
He deprives my life of flavor, saving it like ammo for the next fresh water war
He buries me in a pile of crystals
Shining, sparkling, dazzling, until they dehydrate every ounce of ambrosial hope
He throws salt over his shoulder for 'good luck', leaving anything and everything behind him burning, withering
Like binging and purging, the ocean rolling in and out, he's suffocating me under what he claimed was sugar
Like the mastermind behind water-boarding, he jerks me left and right, pure and tainted, innocent and soiled
He promises that this time it's Confectioner's
He promises the water he's leading me to is fresh
But every time it's salt
And I'm the definition of insane, constantly falling for the same look in his eyes, the same half smile
And every grain is one hundred lies,
And every grain brings another ten-year war
Sodium chloride might as well be cyanide
Simple table salt bottles may as well be containers of gunpowder
We're fighting through the desert, sand turned into his favorite compound
We're losing, bleeding, lacerated, with only his promises as bandages
I'm betrayed by my own body, as I wipe my tears and realize their chemical makeup
I'm trying to explain why I panic if my dish is too salty, why I panic if I'm near the ocean
I'm rebuilding my pallet, substitution after substitution
I'm learning to use other spices
I'm remembering the taste of a simpler world.
I'm washing over my scars with water I filtered myself.

Slithering through my skin
inch by inch
makes its way down
bursting opening the bubble
the premier cell on the surface
meander, wander
yonder, a crimson state
gnawing to get a base for existence
basis for existence
existence
trickling, shades and textures
sizes and characters
seeking something better
something raw
something juicy
with more news than you,
probably,
droplets of evaporation
sublimation
a Freud theory in disguise
gone wrong for most,
most parts
till it doesn’t slide to my lips
in playful bouts
tasting of salt.

You are... Vinegar
Rather strong, for some
Not always in a good way
But I like you
I mean, I'm salt
I know that too much of me
Is just no good
But you and I, together
Oh, we are the dream team
For some, anyway
I wouldn't call us a cup of tea
In front of some friends
But I know that I love us
And maybe I don't want you
Every single time
But I will always come back
Because I need you
And we do make a good team
In the end

Coming into the kitchen,
slightly beyond hungry,
tremendous, happy
excitement fills me.

There is still something
left in the house to eat.
Pasta.

Opening the fridge, the little
green army of boxes
smiles back at me.
"We're still here! And so are
the sea salt, and the olive oil,
and the peanut butter!"

Never had peanut butter pasta?
You're missing something!

you know sweetie, I'd love to forgive you
I'd love to believe that
your intentions were the best
however I can't seem
to get this particular dream
out of my head
see, what I dream is
you saying "sorry, you were right"
"I didn't mean any of it"
"not even that one night"
I want to be validated
in my grief, I suppose
I want a reason behind
why this hurts so bad
after so long
because frankly you don't deserve this from me
you don't deserve anything from me
you made promises that you didn't even try to keep
you spat lies into my face
and apologized for things
that you planned on doing
the very next day
so don't you dare tell me
you're "sorry"

now I don't want an apology
instead I want nothing but guilt
and shame
for you
because just for once in your life
I want you to take responsibility
for the mistakes you made
and the choices you made
and the times that you actively decided
to douse my wounds with salt
I want you to feel the burning
that's been in my blood for the past ten months
if I have to burn,
well, baby,
you're gonna burn too

with eyes still closed, my mind awakes
to the ocean upon my door,
it knocks with salty insolence,
my land locked soul to lure.

the thought of coral in chandeliers,
tempts my feet from bed to floor,
but twas the sound of kelp being plucked,
that enticed me to explore.

a tidal wave is just outside,
where mackerel dance and more,
schools of sea-life swim upstairs,
to feed off shipwrecked floors.

with eyes wide open, my mind asleep,
my skin drops on the shore,
my hands scale through my algae hair,
and i hear the turtles lore.

the manatees discuss it too,
a tale of souls at war,
who hear the knock and find reprieve,
in an oceans wandering floor.

And our hands touched the water
Our heads faced the wind
We took a mental picture
Sand salt and skin
Emotions a mixture
Anxiety we've grown akin
And for a while I forgot
And I wasn't sad, I wasn't scared
If anything I was ill-prepared
As this took me by surprise
But the way the moon hit your eyes
Late Thursday night drive
You made me feel alive

Whisper cold chills into my skin again
I will warm your throat with a gesture
Be a little less respectful
I wandered with only you for reasons I can't speak
Take me, anytime
My words are filling the space you create when you're nervous
I'm on your mind for a reason
I find you comfortable, and not just socially
The moments you drive me insane make me want to bind your arms
I resist because it's not about having what you want
I just want and that's enough for me

We can lie around for hours talking and watching the waves
I don't mind waiting
The breeze fills me with sand and salt and the water stings my eyes
SO many new flavours and textures
Your eyes being my favourite