The fog swirls around me:
a light ocean mist.
The worlds melt slowly in the back
of my mouth, like sea glass.
Fall pulls onward, but
the weight of it all eludes my
scattered mind.

We build these castles and
ground them into sand because
it is easier to find meaning
if you can sift it through
a sieve. The lonely splashing
of the sea creatures in the
night only meant I would
close the window,
and keep the curtains from
dancing like sprites in the
wind.

I would hope, and I would laugh
but choking on my thoughts is not
the way I want to remember.
Instead, let a vast pool of ripples
surround me and hold me close;
let my eyes cease to see
and instead function only as reflectors
for the stars.

The palm trees whisper precious
secrets to me. One may lose themselves
and become a grain of sand tangled
in my hair: a quiet bubble of water
floating in and out of my awareness.

I might miss it.

Tiny shards of sea glass trickle
from my hands, and are followed
by even smaller rivulets of red
in my palms.

A breeze fills the imprints where my
feet have been.
I can only hold on to this place
in my memory.