Abigail


The way we dream is like the ocean,
the sea drags us towards the end
We sing and we die
We long to watch the faces of our lives
We peel our skins out to dry
We forbid our memories to remember like fire, we drown

The way we live is like a pebble
We linger by the edge, caught up by angels
We move, slowly, limply
We envy the midnight stars and our bodies
Well, our bodies long for restoration.

It's that thing with angels
The small air that pulls out from their lips,
The way the words they speak
move about like monsters
The way they stand unafraid,
They way they bend and laugh at the sea
It's that thing that leaves us drained
How we need to paint photographs of children
And how the stillness renders us weak

It's that line that marks us
the first time we see the sun.

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