The head is a buzz with nothing and the heart over flows until the body feels all at once empty and too heavy.
Depress the unseen heavy things into their beds where they lie still like the dead.
Treacherous thoughts ablaze in a dry mouth, silver tongue in the fire, taking form. Itâs words are only to lie to the self. The forms on the bed start to murmur like ghosts.
Douse the silver tongue in cool water, the backing of a mirror, to repeat the words back.
âIâm okay, Iâll be okayâ.
No.The pain was taken but not the wound. Numb and cold. Hollow and resounding. I could hear the drop of a pin within me and shatter with the echoes. Like glass, but not as pretty. Not as sparkly. Not as beloved as the class of chandeliers, but more akin to littered sea glass.
Unassuming amongst the seafoam that once was a merperson. Loved, in loved, sad and self forsaken by the tides of emotion that can never be escaped. There is an ocean inside me, and the moon pulls on it. The emotions overflow, drown me at high tide, and leave me numb when they pull out.
My hands are here. Reaching out. Lungs too full. Iâll try again. After the sea foam fades and the seaglass returns to sand. When the ghosts leave the bed and the cup is empty again.
