There are things in this life that scare you. I am not one of them.
There are things in this life that ruin you. I am not one of them.
Now, I knew what you were initially thinking, anxious poet:
“This will rob me of my sight and my sound,
and I am mostly shut these days – far too fragile to
unearth the parts of me that only dwell in harmony.
Just hurt me. Hurt me and I will easily create.
Nurture me, and I do not know how.
I ache for booming, crashing waves,
Destructive enough to stifle what cannot clamor.”
What I need to tell you, poet, is that I am not upheaval.
I am no exclamation.
I will not drag you through pandemonium
and thunder revelations from you.
I am salt-dissolved buoyancy, cradling your mind above water.
You will not know where I end and where you begin,
I am your warmth. I am comfort disguised as you.
You cannot drown in me in order to be something. I refuse it.
I’m sure I am not the first body you’ve tried to float in.
I hope I am never the last.
Salt burns open wounds, I don’t blame your hesitation.
But remember, I am a carrier.
I will bring you, silent and confident, to the person you want to be.
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