xveriie
“you sink, slowly into the bottomless void of the cerulean water, no struggle, just a silent surrender to the soft rippling of the space around you. it's quiet and peaceful under the waves. you choke on the mixed tears and seemingly tasteless water around you. a last breath, and the bubbles of your last sign of life float to the top. you keep sinking into a permanent slumber, everything going numb. now only fish will come near your lifeless body, drifting around your endless comatose. they wait for you at home, but you'll never come back. after months, the search for you ends. you're still in the pond. after a year it gets muddy, no longer the rippling satin color from before. no one touches the body of water for a good long while now.”
(valerie 2024 december)
xveriie
eventually the search dies out like a candle forgotten in its holder. you remain there, untouched, settled in the pond’s silent grasp. a year passes. the once satin surface grows cloudy, thick with silt and neglect. the water loses its luminous shimmer, turning into a murky veil no one dares disturb. no footsteps approach its edge now. no hands dip into its depths. only the pond remembers you. (rewrite, valerie 2025 november)
xveriie
you sink slowly into the bottomless velvet of cerulean water, your body offering no resistance, only a quiet surrender to the trembling ripples folding around you. the world above fades into a distant hum as the water thickens into a soft blue hush. it is strangely peaceful beneath the surface, a sanctuary of muted light and drifting shadows. a sting of salt and sorrow gathers at the back of your throat, and you choke on the blend of tears and cold, flavorless water seeping into your lungs. one final breath escapes you, fragile and trembling, and the bubbles rise like tiny silver ghosts, breaking the surface far above your fading vision. you continue to descend, limbs loosened, drifting toward a numb and dreamless slumber. sensation slips away from you, thread by thread, until only stillness remains. fish circle you with quiet curiosity, their scales catching bits of fractured light as they glide around your motionless form. days turn to weeks, months blur. at home, they wait, calling your name into rooms you will never enter again.
