poetry

Ocean

I have the timbre of
the ocean
in my bones,

And,

As she consumes me,
my lover says
that she can still taste
the salt on my skin.

I leap into the sea
to escape –
her,
life,
the phantom weight
of old lovers,

And the echoes
beneath the surface
are almost loud enough,
to block out

Her voice,
so full of the big city –
a shrill treble,
backed by synth-pop and alleyway screams.

I watch as she,
my albatross,
dives
squawking for me to stay,

But the sea’s hum
has me chasing rogue waves
into the deep,

And I
don’t drown,
because,

I

Have the timbre
of the ocean
in my bones.

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