sounds like a storm surge in a sea of undulation
choking in between the sentences stuck in your throat
dancing on the ebb of a digital wave
that speaks for us all.
I hear cadence
in your choice of words
and compressed tides in the absence of.
How can it be?
Adjectives that once swam in your tongue
now lay dormant on the shores of intention.
If we could interpret the ocean
what stories would it speak?
Of its chaos?
Warm and welcoming dawn –
cold, if the sun does not dance along.
Would it speak of its corruption?
truth sunk into the ground,
or a sense of grandeur from rinsing
golden skin of false impurities…
The way language swells up your chest
into your lungs and out through the crack on your lips –
frantic, lofty, seemingly gentle
darling, you sound like the ocean.
You sound like the ocean