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Waiting Waiting with weeds of the sea as if waiting at home. Unfamiliar and slippery, grasping and wrapping. Settled on the sandy floor, she does not remember having skin so blue. Waiting where he's left her. Her obedient self. Her placid self. Marveling at the clarity of clouded vision. At the strength in giving up. Fearing no life belonging where she does not. Her dress is torn. Waiting for enlightenment. Or any form of light. Uncomfortable in so much darkness but no longer cold. Learning to breathe, she scratches gills through heavy lungs. Waiting to ask him why, with hands of lead he placed her, held her under the steady edge of water. Why he shared a pillow but wanted a separate universe. Wondering when he'll come home.
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