
i am the ocean,
and i am your seas;
i was constructed
merely to appease.
Gently, outside she looks; her eyes stray from the sand to her toes, colors of the two indistinguishable.
There is a call, to her and her only, and it is from the ocean. She knows it, she has heard it before. It's gentle and marooning, and when she falls, she takes note of how soft the sand is when it scrapes itself against her.
but somewhere i tripped,
and fell down coral reefs;
somewhere i slipped,
and my bony fingers
ripped apart deep green leaves.
She does not have the will to move for hours later, and by then it is dark, and the sand is, and so is her skin.
Her lids droop but she can't close them completely, as water nips at her skin timidly. She's picked a good spot to lie, she tells herself, and an even better spot to lie her body down. With the strength she can muster, she brings her hand to her chest, and holds it.
There is no thumping, no strumming; the heartstrings on her guitar have been coiled away.
like the tides swish and sway,
i have drifted from my mission
and i merely hope that one day,
again will i feel your fins
slice across my green blue skin.
When the sky blushes pink she realizes it is time for her to get up, stand up, to stretch, to breathe. But she stays motionless, lungs rising and falling and falling before rising once more, and each time they fall she thinks they will not rise again, but they do.
She figures with a tint of hatred on her tongue that it must be the sea breeze, the one that ruffles her fins as if they were feathers.
for i am your ocean,
and i am your seas,
and i was filled up
to supply your sweet sea breeze.
Suddenly, her ears fill up, and not with foreign sounds; not with fins scraping sand, but with bubbles and lucid breaths. She can see now, actually see; her skin is not the color of where it lies, they are stark contrasts. Her eyes flare up and her fingers stretch and her toes can no longer writhe and dig into dry.
She tries to let herself fall, but she doesn't, and she realizes that the darkness of the bottom of the sea is much more inviting than what lies above it, than the sand, than the sky. She weeps, but the sea catches her tears.