Little blue plastic bags float beside me.
The ocean here is vast, the deep blue you'll only view in the veins of a hand.
A small plastic bag was caught in my hand, somewhere in the faraway ocean.
It was so blue it had blended with the waves, with my veins.
As much water was in it, it still floated, just like me.
Yet I caught another one.
And another, and another.
There were so many of them it felt like there was no more ocean.
Just an ocean of little blue plastic bags.
My lungs felt heavy, as if they had absorbed all the water around me,
my shaky breath wouldn't release its grip around my throat.
And before I knew, I was falling in.
Deep inside the sea of the plastic bags;
dangling themselves around my arms and feet,
pulling me down deeply
where no breaths can hold onto my neck any more.
So I screamed
as if I was the last man in this world.
And all the water left my body,
filling up the ocean with water and the water with ocean.
And the weight left my lungs.
All I do now is float
just like a blue plastic bag.
My skin is blister blue and my lips look bruised.
I float,
blending in with the waves and the little blue plastic bags
and my empty veins.
YOU ARE READING
Lighthouse
PoetryA lighthouse is your only hope in the vast ocean and you can only hope the crashing waves won't tear it apart. Poems that I wrote in order to live. Each photo that is accompanying each poem is mine, representing memories which go back years. © Alex...
