Crimson.

She tucked letters under her arms,
tying them with rosemary
and linking her love
into the dry papyrus.

-

He was the boy who swam with sharks
until his forty minutes in a desolate
ocean woke him-
he couldn't rest easily anymore
with arms up in the air.

-

She has yet to cease her writing,
but the pain is only numbing
as her voice no longer quakes
with emotion,
it just withers away.

-

He was never found, the saltiness
of his wounds were never licked,
and his last words regrettably
never reached her,
the only homeland he ever swam
to before.

-

And now silence sits between them,
destroying the passion she had warmed
herself up to.

The waters are still churning, moving
with his soul and not even trying

to return.

-
Written 6/25/13 @ 8:45 pm.