Yesterday she said:
“My breath is my wave
pushing me to the shore.
I let it move me as it pleases,
despite my many fears.”
I followed her to the middle of the ocean.
She smelled like men, many of them.
And despite my tears,
that scent wouldn’t wash away.
I press my mouth to her mouth,
filling her lungs again with my breath,
her chest blows up, taut like a balloon,
but the eyes remain still.
I kiss her skin again,
her color already disappearing,
her body lost in the clouds,
and those many men sneering.