drowning again (July 2024)

It doesn’t matter where you drown,
you are still drowning.
In the sand, where dreams are buried,
grains shifting like the weight of regrets,
a desert of silence, suffocating—
you sink, you grasp, but the dust consumes.

In the clouds, where hopes are hung,
the sky once blue, now heavy with storms,
each drop a memory, too thick to breathe—
you drift, you fall, but the mist encloses,
wrapping your soul in vaporous despair.

In the sea, where love once thrived,
waves that kissed now pull you under,
salt stings your lips, your eyes, your heart—
you thrash, you scream, but the depths call softly,
seducing you into their cold, dark embrace.

In my eyes, where you thought you’d be safe,
oceans glistened with promises unspoken,
but those same waters can drown you whole—
you look, you see, but you can’t escape,
the currents of sorrow pulling you down.

It doesn’t matter where you drown,
you are still drowning.
In the sand, in the clouds, in the sea, in my eyes—
everywhere you go, the weight follows,
the undertow of what we cannot change,
dragging us down to where light cannot reach.