Forgot about your seachange eyes. I was too busy looking
everywhere else when I saw you last, transfixed by my increasingly bland drink,
fascinated by my shoes, intrigued by the middle distance between us. Nonchalant
even though I wanted to dive into them, gorge on them, fill my lungs with them.
And when the time would come to surface, please fuck let it be never years
from eternity, when they pull me from the mud of your hair and the rocky beach
of your mouth, I'll have grown gills.
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