Thursday, March 17, 2022

The Fog

You close your heart and fog rolls in
I'm whipped by wicked northern winds
The ones of what it could have been
Our ocean's temperature descends
It seizes up my lungs and limbs
My eyes and whys, it covers them
I cannot feel to float nor swim
And neither do I want to then
I'm praying, saying make this end
But I keep washing up again

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