Even with
The bright Sun
Sometimes
We feel
Somedays
Are colder than
The others

No coverings
No coffee
Neither the fire
Nor any liquor
Makes you, feel warm

Probably that time
Could be the season
Of  blue

The blankets are waves.

I’m a small sliver
Of a silver fish
Trapped in the current.

I’ve had sunlit days
In my rolling waves,
And I’ve met terrors in the deep,
Been held down,
Unable to gulp water through my mouth
Hungry
For oxygen.

I’ve been chased by monsters,
Befriended golden fish.
I’ve had dreams in its depths.

My bed is an ocean.

A sun soaked,
Dark,
Beautiful,
Polluted ocean.