this time we mean it

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Photo downloaded from pixabay.com

just in case

the lines along the cracks of your lips

no longer hold the answers

I need

just in case

the tiles begin to measure more than

actual distance

between our fingertips

just in case

the morning air constricts not only

my lungs

but also our infinite possibilities

just in case

there are conversations full of reason

left open

against summer breeze, urging

 

just in case

one of us forgets to keep the light on

for the sake of tracking dates and one of us

leaves, feet dragging against unsuspecting sand,

let me linger longer

let me love fuller

let me remember better

as you become the bitter aftertaste

of salt and sea.

 

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because secretly, i’m a mermaid

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Photo credits: The Daughter of the Sea by Marco Busoni

There had to be sunlight somewhere. For fish hungry for water, it seemed ironic to first look for heat. But there she was, feet already sprouting, yearning for the sort of warmth she didn’t even understand.

What does it take for breaths to have meaning? Swimming around, she came to know air only as something you need for catching up. The sea was just a place to go. The waves were just a means of passing by.

Inside her, stuck in between bones she called her body, was more water. Her lungs were a well of salt and saliva, thickening with every inhale. Was it dark there? Was it dangerous? (Nonetheless, they were still just transparent.)

What did it mean to be buoyant? Sometimes, when she touched her scales, she can imagine herself floating. Though in her head the surface is also the sea, she knew she really didn’t need to escape water. Drenched, she only needed a small flame to hide underneath her shell.