04.12.01

it is four o'clock in the morning, the quiet-desperation time. i wake from underwater dreams of tangled seaweed to the sound of slick salty tears of sweat tracing patterns down my arms, the smell of sea and death in the air.

i am drowning in the quiet of the not-quite morning, in the deep dark velvet that may never release me to the hope of dawn. dreams of seaweed, always of seaweed... seaweed fingers grasping, pulling me into an oxygenless world deep under everything my waking mind will permit.

and i wake, heart pounding, choking on seawater and memories. and i wake, drenched in saltwater, tangled in dark green nori sheets. and i wake, with oceans pouring down my cheeks, eyes giving birth to the pain of her memory. awake, but not quite alive, begging the glowing red digits to pull me through the undertide and into daylight.

seaweed, grasping, fingers, his fingers, her fingers, the ocean roaring inside my ears, waves crashing against sternum, let me out, just let me breathe the air.

choking on saltwater, his spray, her tears, tide ebbing until i am alone, an island once again.

and i wake, and i float through the underworld of desperation and nightfall until the first rays of sun warm the shining seas and i can breathe clean air into my lungs.

***

xoxo,

moonbird

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