When you sink.

I don't know who you are.
You never paint the pictures with the ocean-storm in the middle
and the flowers on the side anymore.
I miss those flowers.
Where'd that sailboat go that once held its own against the mighty wind?
It sank. You sank
with it.


I have finally realized my words do not flow,
my screaming attempts are not heard,
my delight is not met.

And in truth,
it makes me sad.


I can only weep.
I can only weep when you sink.