There was a mix of inspirations that went into this poem. Nearly two years ago, I had been having this reoccurring dream of someone I had once loved walking into the ocean, and I couldn’t save them from the water swallowing them whole. It wasn’t until a friend of mine told me to write this down did the dream stop. This was my revitalization.
It’s 1:03 pm on a Thursday and I’ve lost you through the smoke and ash of this cigarette.
I don’t want to be loved and neither do you. I honestly don’t think either of us knows how.
but see, my mind won’t stop fixating itself on the image of your toes buried in the sand while the vast stormy blue lures your frame further into the water.
I’m always f*cking things up, I think. It’s not my fault.
at least we’ll be legends.
the first people to start a fire underwater. who ever could have known.