Poetry

Far out in the Ocean (draft)

Dry, silver scales speak on my tongue

of glittering waves and the deepest depths.

But I can only reach them when

the blue calls me back.

 

When the blue calls me back and

the silver scales become me.

I long to dive down inside my mind

to search for the reason why;

 

I cannot recall ever being this hungry

for something my memory no longer holds.

Yet the pumping of my heart mirrors

the weight of liquid cornflowers.

 

And I know the foam will gather.

One day.

 

 

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