My tears brim with ocean
Salt water streams down my face
My cheeks are lined with sand
And my tongue bristles with coral spikes.
Look into my stormy eyes
My pupils are windows to a seaside memory
Pickling in the brines of time.
My hands are weighted
By pebbles skimmed long ago
The waves they cast forms the currents
Whipping up the ocean waves
Of which my tears are brimming
- Jill.
I'm not coming back Martha.
You can keep the shell. I don't want it anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Seashell
PoetryA collection of poems with the connection to the same Seashell. Could this just be a coincidence, or is there a bigger tale to be told? All of these poems are my original work and should not be re-used without my consent. If you want to edit them fo...
