After I Drowned

When I came back up
I was dead.
I’m still dead.
I’m not here.
My eyes are water blue,
and my lungs
are full of salt.
I want to burn something
into my skin
to prove I exist.
I want to etch something
along my bones
to prove it hurts.
I want to fold you up
in my arms
and make a cage of myself
so you can’t leave me.
Don’t leave me here
to sink again.
Don’t leave me here
to fall.
I thought I was immortal.
The husk of me
is all that’s left.
I don’t know
when it happened.
I’m talking to empty air.
You’re already gone.
One of us is a ghost;
the other one
is just dead.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.