I always find you in the saltwater room
where everything burns
and our eyes are closed.
May is monsoon season, here.
It's making me restless-
but maybe its just you.
I cant help but wonder,
was this an ordinary sinking?
You keep looking at me
from the other side.
Eyes unblinking,
and very,
very blue.
The rain keeps drumming on.
It knows I'm home, I suppose.
Perhaps it was no ordinary sinking.
Perhaps something more than you and I
was meant to make it back to shore.
Thats not the point, though.
The point is that I cant remember what kind of boat we were on.
The point is that there's no way to tell.
The point is that saltwater cleans wounds.