I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the ocean at night, but
there is a time of stillness just before dusk arrives where it’s an
extension of the stark night sky. Reaching all the way to
earth. Once, I thought of it as a doorstep into the skies, as if you
walked on top you’d eventually reach the moon.
Instead it consumes you
into water that’s cold, can’t see your feet.
The ocean makes me think,
that’s why I endear it. The ocean makes me think, that’s why I fear it
It’s not her reflection that startles her. Pale face, clear eyes, dark hair. Her reflection hasn’t changed, except perhaps the addition of the scars, the muscles grown from necessity and the bags of exhaustion lurking beneath her eyes. What she hates the most about mirrors are the ghosts who stand behind her.