water in my lungs17 July 2018
the feeling when i hover
between water and air, my mouth,
the bridge between
a personal gateway to somewhere beyond heaven and hell
you make sinking feel like rising
and so i search for you
in places i shouldn’t be
the saltwater kisses my lungs repeatedly, ebbing tides of “i love
over and over again, my tears, they leave my body and
return faithfully like a scorned lover who loves more than
scorns, i don’t know
whose fluid breath it is that i inhale, mine or
is there even a difference?
i never felt like anything
but everything whenever
i was with you.
and you wonder why my personal definition of
love is pain.
how can water in my lungs feel like fire?
how can breathing feel like burning?
how can dying feel like flying?
you are the edge at
which i stand,
of my insanity
it makes the most sense here.
i wrote my name in the shores of your palms, over and over
each time the ocean washed it out, a message
she would soon turn into a lesson.
the fine line of death,
yet tell me why
i’ve never felt more alive?