i know who i am. and i know who i do not want to be. i am easy in my own skin even while i struggle. i a...
the drowning took a while. white skies turned head over heels and changed into liquid clouds that became tie-dyed pieces of material. like the material they bought at the parade on saturdays…rolls and rolls of material in all the colours and patterns one could think of. she had a dress with blue scallops that looked like small wavelets. it was darted in the middle and accentuated her waist and the hem came to just above her knees, the sleeves were short and prettily puffed. (why did she remember this now?) the sky became a dam of light blue ripples that made her hair sway to and fro between the fishes. they darted in and out of her hair. how lovely, she thought, how at home they are. and then she was thinking, i knew they would be…for i am a fish child and a water baby. i swam before i toddled. i breathed water before i coughed. i had fins before i grew nails. my eyes have been washed by silver salt to clean, white irises and well toned ear drums grace my head. i cannot be surprised that the fishes kiss my lips and tickle my teeth and tongue. this was meant to be since before water happened, before air appeared, before wind whipped dangerously around to cover the chaos over the earth. now there is no more disarray. now everything is perfect in this water; blood turns in slow circles and tears flow in perfect streams, all liquids make sense and fill what is empty. all of these find their own levels. and all levels are perfect. the earth moves in water and water cleanses fire. all this went through her mind as she opened the taps in her body with her thoughts and everything that could, flowed through her and out and she flowed with it. she became the liquid, the fish were already flowing, her mind swam in clever circles and made her slightly and very pleasantly tipsy. so this was dying? really? how many times could one do this, she wondered…maybe she could stop halfway and turn back, but how would she know when it was not too late? she could do this for many
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#7 in Poetry
Other Works by seasofme.
'ill coloured sky' - that seems awful...a touching poem.
Ice Skating on Horseback
i am touched and in awe of your flawless writing. i seldom read fiction for the time it takes, but i might have to change that this once... thank you very much for this gift. :)
love letters from ruby
wow, what a perfectly beautiful comment. thank you so very much, nightowlhatter. that is a privileged spot, i think!