Monday, November 30, 2009


Poetry to Prose V

You move in and out, my ocean, and I know all is not said. Your waves come crashing in unexpectedly harsh since I wasn't looking your way. It's all a little too soon; I hadn't braced myself well. Your salt angers my wounds, and I only want more as you wash easily into my sores, dangerously deep. Since then I've been aware that it's all too much, and I'm not ready quite yet. You drag me deep underneath, and I can hardly breathe. Your ripples distort my visions, my impenetrable trance; I was daydreaming anyway. It's a little too dark in here, and I didn't hold myself high enough to keep your rough tides from pushing me away, but I know how things are. You flow effortlessly through me, disturbingly coarse since I was imagining softness, and now it's all I feel. I can't stand steady here. You cleanse all you pass through, and I am clearly gone, but your flow wears me down more, perfectly smooth since I wasn't moving away. I stood a little too still for you. I haven't found myself yet.

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