Just knowing you is like trying to breathe under water.
You fill my lungs with choked up memories,
my ears with whispers,
and my heart with uncertainty.
I try to swim up to meet the surface,
reaching desperately for a hand that isn’t there.
Your heart is somewhere else,
underneath the covers of another’s bed.
I fear that this ends come morning,
that I’m back to confronting all these demons alone.
There are books full of words that vouch for my existence,
but you read none of them.
Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.