I am drowning
in the current of you
that is over-taking my bloodstream.
I am flushing you
out of my system;
no one said it would be easy.
with each wave of memory,
I don’t realize how bad they crash until
I know someone is not you by the way they are sitting.
I knew who you were Tuesday
because I saw your shoes first.
I will not be beaten into the shore
by the recollection of your eyes.
I won’t drift off into
this watery oblivion to the
sound of your voice that has become a second pulse.
I would rather drench all thoughts of black t-shirts
with salt water than tears.
I will no longer let you soak my core.
You are polluted water,
you are distilled liquid.
And I realize I have let myself tread too long
watching our impressions on the surface level.
I will not let myself sink to the bottom of the ocean.
And I will not walk through the rain hoping you will kiss me.
I know now that water is both life and
I know now you have to let go,
even when you love them.
You have to purge every fluidic memory,
until you are left staring at your own reflection.
So let the floodgates burst forth:
the tsunami that will course through me
will replenish my inner anatomy
as I realize what rehydration feels like.
And all scars of you
have submerged themselves under layers
and layers of thickened skin,
20,000 leagues deep.