maelynslavik

I’m at the ocean again, 

and I feel at home again. 

The salt breeze always reminds me of seaweed, 

green string stitched into blue silk, 

brown tangles piled on the rocks' edge. 

The leaves have fallen. 

They are changing. 

It's almost that time of year again. 

Over there, a little boy  

sits alone, 

We are running from 

Ourselves 

Because we have built 

Ourselves 

As a single entity 

Connected by invisible strings 

I'm getting older. 

I often struggle to notice.  

I'm with myself all the time, 

I know myself better than anyone.  

There is a fog that escapes from the wide mouth 

Of a creature that lurks 

Through the raw October air. 

Almost obvious is the daunting manner of its complexion,