Echoes From A Seashell

Reads: 73  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 4

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Vintage Publishing
I can hear the ocean

Submitted: January 18, 2019

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Submitted: January 18, 2019

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Sounds of crashing waves, echo off of

The walls, inside of seashell washed ashore.

Salty sea spray, soothes my irritated lungs,

The ocean massages, my bruised and broken body.

 

Half sunken in the sand, a relic of the halcyon past,

Wrong bus took me to Rock Bottom, not Bikini Bottom.

Limbo, baby, how low can you go? I bet that I can

Get lower, the depths of hell expand infinitely.

 

Stuck my last rights, inside of an empty beer bottle,

The tide draws close, but never touches the glass.

Sailboats fade into the horizon, like ash in the wind,

I watch them go one by one, until the ocean is empty.

 

My lungs turn black, as the moon starts to wake up,

Lemonade colored eyes, they glisten in the moonlight.

The scar tissue builds internally, slowly and silently,

Rales in my air sacs, akin to how death rattle sounds.

 

The tide draws closer to me, soothing my bare skin,

It feels like the ocean is growing hands, to hold me in.

I’d crawl towards you, but I’m far too weak to move,

So you’re coming to me, slowly pulling me in closer.

 

Sounds of crashing waves, echo off of

The walls, inside of seashell washed ashore.

Salty sea spray, soothes my irritated lungs,

The ocean massages, my bruised and broken body.

 


© Copyright 2019 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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