it is really too bad that anxiety finds me when my eyes catch you, on nights when the storm in my belly is calmest; i told her to wait for me in the back of my mind, but she mistook you for the next block.
i want to die and be reborn as the press of a flower against your wrist, or maybe the sweet sun, kicking its shadowy feet while sitting on your doe-lashes. i think i find peace with the coral and the stingrays, floating inches above the sea floor and losing myself in kelp strands - kelp may indeed be the color of my eyes in my dreams (i'll never know because my mind, it doesn't dream in color);
or maybe i find serenity in the tremble of your voice as you speak to me in my loneliest nightmares.
i wish you knew that you still have a seat in the ruling chambers of my shattered heart.