In a sparkling sea of wicked green,
I looked for demons seeing things.
Drag me inside a phantom lair,
fingers twirl and curl my hair.
Should my heart fly faster now?
Is this what it feels like to drown?
Breath crushed deep,
my soul—your keep—
silence snatched while counting sheep.
Jitter the image, madden the tale,
paint it as a summer’s fair.
But winter murders its way to truth;
I believed every fable in my youth.
Older, wiser,
Wrong-er—“find her.”
Here all along with melted lungs,
screaming snapped Summer’s tongue.
Ribs ripped free—what became of my heart?
Oceans opened; kissed me dark.
