my pen drips ink onto the page but

these ink blots don’t mean a thing

and the early morning hours are creeping upon me

while the ghosts of my thoughts float longingly

outside of myself

my head is so loud and yet

these tears fall silently down my cheeks

and suddenly the sea is in my ears

calling to me like the seashells I held

when I was a girl

but where are you to hold me now

that I am grown and

seashells bring only tidings of the waves

repeating the same things over

and over

and over

and over

and

I’m confusing the sand beneath my feet

with the stars above my head

on fire like my soul

our lives seen only after we have exploded

in a supernova of light and heat and

the sand is so cool between my toes

and suddenly a little repetition seems so comforting

and suddenly my tears seem less relevant

as I am swallowed by the sea