PS

it's come to this-- definitions
of memories and people and dreams
I’ll never know firsthand like reasons for living;
this realization that I
am a stagnant planet, lost
on its orbit home; this

search for a justification
to keep on breathing ocean
when my lungs won’t tolerate
salt. I woke today in the water

to angels swimming around my feet;
coral, pearlescent anchors dragging me
down, down, sweetly lullabying
about you, dear, and the day
the tides washed you away.

you are written in my skin
as much as the lies I live by
daily. you are the beautiful things:

the sun waking up in the morning, the
stars pitying at me as I try to fall asleep.
the watercolor sky sighing, the
virgin clouds crying, the last note

suiciding itself into silence.