ToxicTick-tick-tickMore Like This
On a checklist of clichés.
(Like vinegar in my veins)
Tortured soul-searching and sleepless nights
Over the Big Confession.
(How to tell you
That you could mean so much more to me
Than can possibly be healthy?)
Then utter, Romeo-and-Juliet passion
And to hell with the consequences.
(So what if we throw the lighter into the gas station?
So what if we burn out
Before we even have time to breathe?)
The briefest lull.
(The calm before the summer storm,
The air bloated with anticipation)
Questions and jealousy.
The first fights.
Screaming our throats raw
(I hate you. I can barely stand to look at you.)
Plates crashing against walls,
(No one willing to pick up the pieces
Through the Blue-Green HazeI am always looking up. One arm is raised in an arc above my head and the other rests in a half circle down by my hips. My face is fixed in an expression of grace and a hint of pride. Straight hair falls around my shoulders and tiny sea creatures are carved onto its surface. My hips flow into the shapeless form of an elegant evening dress, replacing what could have been my legs.More Like This
Colourful fish swim to and fro, startled by sudden movement and sound. They shimmer in the sun's light, casting tiny dancing patterns across the ocean. When they swim above my head all I can see are shadows. Dancing, twisting, turning shadows that play in this cool curtain of water.
Boats of all sorts float by, keeping the sun's rays from touching my skin. I see massive cargo ships that pass by in a cacophony of sound. I see sail boats that float by carried by a breeze. I see fishing trolleys with their hanging nets casting criss-cross shadows across the ocean floor. I see all this because I am always looking u