Like a weed smiling
sure of the sunshine on its little leaves
crushed under the sole of a boot
imprints itself bleeding,
lamenting the last breath that never would count as fragrance,
into dust brought from distances
and earth meets earth
through an open sultry summer window
that brings in no air
as the ocean breathing somewhere near
calls out me.
The ocean calls out to me, I melt
break into water.
Broken bits of myself
tracing names scribbled on the spine
crawl down my back
lose themselves in the leftover of a rain
clinging on to my curls
shimmer in the dark
bursting into contours of the sweet salt other
holding on and letting go
of moistness of distances and places
people and names
time and moments,
die longing for the ocean.
the part of me left back to write.