.

i.

i don't think about water-logged pearls anymore. only of the sea-foam that is buried under my fingernails. how long does it take to scrape away sordid words, wasted lies-
how long does it take to rid yourself of choked catharsis concealed in oceans of unknown?

( he found me wearing my pearl necklace last week.
 i told him it reminded me of all the times i almost
 drowned.
 he told me i shouldn't think about such sad things. )

ii.

i don't think about busted ribcages anymore. only of the hollow echoing of hummingbirds in their last years. when can you convince yourself that-
when can you tell someone that you love them without worry they will leave afterward?

( he found me counting my ribs last week.
 i told him i was checking for the cracks left by too
 many perching birds.
 he told me i shouldn't be so paranoid. )

iii.

i don't think about the winter anymore. only of the color white and its vague way of telling us the truth. why do we leave footprints to follow-
why do we leave a trace of ourselves in the snow if we don't want to be followed?

( he found me making snow angels last week.
 i told him it was the only way i could find to fly
 away.
 he told me not to leave.
 not yet. )