One of my earliest memories
I watched a woman walking proud
down the dunes and into the sea.
I’ve been wondering what it says about me.

How such simple erasure could be a way
of inviting-in peace.
Oh how I ache to be flooded with relief.
Little did I know that my peers weren’t so drawn to drowning.

There was a time in my life when I felt less then alive,
Enraptured like a storyteller
I started talking to the stars.
as if the distance between us could
condense,
my body, in their light.
Could collapsing narratives
be the way a void’s a-glimmering
as we dive down again
to what shows us in our unspeakable depths?

And I got used, to sending invitations to the devil, splintering again
to help him in his need.
Attracted to his impossibility;
surrendering to secure a love from anyone would have meant the world to me.

I could only stop measuring my-
self by what I lost or missed.
Riding these oscillating waves of absences.

I used to dream of serenity.
I used to dream of serendipity.
I used to/ dream. I used you. I used to.

I used to dream of masquerading creatures on a beach.
I used to dream of conditional me.
I used to dream of invisibility.
could also be that was all I’d ever known.
I was stuck at the crossroads
between the imaginary & the real.
Now I’ve become the feeling of feeling.
(Back then, like I promised)
Was I always expecting nothing?