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  • Writer's pictureAnna McNutt


I seek for solace in your chest. I dig and carve into it to find a place I can call home. But your ribcage holds a shipwreck, your treasure washed ashore. Your waters seize me and I am capsized like all the other boats that have ventured here before. Your pirate’s smile gleams; deceiving me into thinking that drowning is somehow euphoric. And against your currents’ warmth, all my thoughts are clouded, like a beast, I search to fill my whirling hunger. A feeling of longing arises as I dissipate to the bottom of your seabed, my hand reaching for the surface, calling for air.

Yet I am here to tell you that drowning me will not kill me. You may waterborne my body a hundred times, but I will come back with the same mean look in my eyes. You may have been defeated, crushed by an ally even, but I am not here to give you my condolences. Part of you has died. Accept it. The funeral flowers have wilted and the candles out. I seek for the life that exists after everyone departs. I am here to rebuild upon the aftermath, not sit in wallow and waste. I am here to discover the city that hides under your waves of heartbreak. The world moves forward and I am asking you to move forward with me. Let your waters calm and set the gale afar. The sun is rising and we are awake with it.


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