January 21, 2018
By Escritora PLATINUM, Bucharest, Other
Escritora PLATINUM, Bucharest, Other
24 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I expect to float,
Or even to dissolve
Like breadcrumbs in a duck-pond,
But I don’t think I’ll ever sink.

With my back hovering
And my nose poking through,
I imagine the water
Flowing between my ribs,
But I won’t ever sink.

Being there,
In a cloud of stinging heat,
Encapsulated in white,
Is when I feel the hollowness the most—
The emptiness that won’t let me sink.

I wish I would just sink.

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