in my lungs.
i was packing all my bags and you
stood silently, staring.
by all my bags, of course i mean just my
faded blue-and-grey diary [i sure hope it's
waterproof] and a toothbrush [i don't
want to offend anyone on the other side,
you know.] tucked into a grocery bag.
i told you about all my dreams,
about swirls of colour and floating endlessly among
them, eyes open and searching.
seas of fishes swirling about me, all of them being
fishes of seas.
you held my hand within yours, and i felt your insides
"don't go," you said. "don't go."
in my head, i repeated those words to you. don't go.
you'd kept me dry and lonely, helping me brick and mortar those walls i couldn't find the water to fill. it won't hold water anyway, i think to myself.
it was just what i wanted, until i'd met you.
i coughed less than i thought i would, and welcomed it's cool weight.
dear sweet smile and forgiving green eyes,
i wish to know how a body relates to a stone
as it sinks.