literature

swimming, not drowning.

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Daily Deviation

Daily Deviation

October 31, 2011
swimming, not drowning. by *Satah
Featured by ikazon
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Literature Text

when you're waist-deep in a love you know you shouldn't have even dipped your toes into, you spend a lot of time cursing the current. you try to stamp your feet but find the sand's up to your ankles and seaweed is tied in bows around your calves. the waves begin to climb, breaking on your collarbones and splashing your face. breath seems to take up more space in your chest. you bring air into your body in the shortest bursts possible and it spills back out like machine gun fire.

sometimes, though-- mostly in the first hours after sunrise, when you're alone with the space she inhabited on your couch and her perfume on the back of your knees-- you plunge your face below the surface and smile up at the sky, dragging your arms through the water just to feel its resistance against your skin. you pretend that holding your breath is a decision you're choosing to make rather than a necessity for survival. you pretend the waves are lively and invigorating instead of terrifying and beyond your control. you gulp in water like you're fighting dehydration and you pretend that you're swimming, not drowning.

you wash up on the shore and crawl to the only pay phone in the city and leave messages like, "i dreamed about you a few nights ago. my hair had grown out to my waist, like it was when we became friends, and you used it to tie my wrists together while you kissed me on the kitchen floor. our fingers met on the lock of my front door and the touch vibrated up our arms and into our lips, pulling them together.

"we went to the house that only seems to exist in my head, next to the park that really exists on the other side of town. in the living room, we put on a series of one act plays for the grandfather clock and the dusty floorboards. in the basement, you placed your knee between my knees and i put my hand between your hands.

"i woke up and my arm was covered in hotel room numbers and my legs were spotted with fingerprint bruises. there was a band-aid on my left palm and i was disoriented because the sun was setting and lately, i haven't had time to fall asleep in the afternoon-- not like i used to. there was a picture of you kissing someone open in a tab that i'd forgotten about. there are no pictures of us together-- not like that. that should probably tell me something about secrets, but i doubt i'll ever learn. i've never been good at moving on-- not like you."

your voice cracks from exhaustion and salt water.
something i wrote for tumblr in september
© 2011 - 2024 Satah
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