I remember as a kid
I would lie with my face next to a bed sheet,
And the closer I slid,
The wrinkles became waves and I imagine a desert of dunes and heat.

Or pull close to a wall below a window sill,
And press myself right up against it until,
All I could see was the edge with the light outside like a beacon.
And imagine I was trapped from a fall in a canyon .

The thing about imagining you're small is you feel more alone than you actually are.
The space between is the same, it just seems bigger.
Because you're more out of reach.

You held my hand as we walked on the shore.
Beyond the sand you're not here anymore.
You towered warm, like the sun over the sea.
Now the storm swarms over , cold waves smother me.
You breathed me in when we kissed and laughed.
Now I'm screaming but just bubbles float past.
Bubbles on the shore.
We're not here anymore.

Im fighting for the energy,
That I need to be me.
But it's tiring to be,
Where I can't,
Even decide,
What I am
Supposed
To be.
Be
Me.

Silent like the waves in a storm.
She looked at the clouds drowned out by the thunder.
The tarmac was warm,
But the warmth was fading into a numb canker.

She closed her eyes,
Or were they closed for her.
A question others realized,
Was now pointless to make clear.

The answer could not save.
Only shock.
Silent like the wave in the storm,
On the rocks.