Underneath the water, I can barely feel my fingertips.
A cold so deep, my breaths solidify in my lungs.
The water vibrates and ripples with the sound of my slowing heart.
Something in me won’t give up, won’t give in, even though I will it to.
I pray it to. I beg it to.
Who am I fighting?
The tide? The current? Myself?
The glimmer of your face reflecting down, down, down to where I lie?
But when I reach out a hand to caress your watery skin, you disperse into murky green.