Driftwood

There is a lapping of water inside my head – hollow and wet. I can feel the water trickle away from the hull of my mind with each tiny wave. Chaotic trails of water rippling down the wooden sides, eager to rejoin their brethren in the quiet little river of my thoughts.

“These are my favorite sounds…” I whisper to you as you lay beside me in our row boat. We are not moored. There is no tethered rope. Together we drift as the river takes us closer to the sea.

You lie mute. Your gaze transfixed by the stars above.

We are lucky for the warmth of the summer evening, the cloudless sky, yet you feel cold to my touch. A chill I have felt for days regardless of the heatwave.

Together we float, my ears turned toward the water waiting for larger, hallow clunks against the wood. It would have all been so romantic were it not for the silence of your heart and the stench of the kerosene.

Inspired by “Alien Shore (Starlight Bay)” by Michael Stearns.


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