there's no air down here;
only what we've stored in our lungs
our heart beat slows,
our eyes slowly open.
we blow air through our noses,
little by little.
we must've forgot to put our hair up:
it flows in front of our faces, then
behind us as we
kick our feet.
our eyes start to burn.
chlorine? no. salt? yes.
tropical fish swim by.
where are we?
we can't hold our breathe much longer.
we lose someone.
another.
your partner.
your best friend.
you open your mouth to scream and water floods your
tiny
human
lungs.
as we sink, i can't help but think
"we were all goners to begin with"
YOU ARE READING
Raspberries & Roses
Poetryeven the most beautiful things have thorns my poems sorry they suck
