as is the water's
weeping, sighing
over the sand, a quiet
secret sadness washed
over the rocks.
the sea like my soul, salty
placidly frustrated, always
seeking, never arriving. merely
present as a witness
to strange wetnesses descending.
as if tears in torrents, drops
in droves, driven
from comfort.
an idle despair, inch
by bloody inch. a closeness
of what is
to what was, but
never can be.
blinding silence, mute
light, deafening darkness. this
expectation of nothingness.
too much of a good thing
gone astray. thoughts
awry. still, the stillness
being reborn. trying
to exhale.
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