Arrivals and departures. Floating in between.
I couldn’t sleep, drifting on a sea of fog out where the stones lay like bones by the ocean. That time when the world walked away and all the water that we carry turned to cracked ice. You'll hear me in the streetlight's humming, transparent kites will be my lightkeepers. When the ferris wheel spins slowly, rusted in the rain I listen to its wind as a choir, a nightcall from the place where all the waves go. The ocean waves hit my feet, pulling me in. I wanted to run, I wanted to drift.
A million miles from home, I’m walking away through the tides. Postcards to myself will sink back into the ocean. Into the deep that wears my silence.