Week-old red wine. Just one more sip from the glass. I’ve been saturated for days. Imbued thoroughly. Isn’t that a way to put it. I’m soaked right through.
I can’t shake you off or swim clear.
There is work to be done, I know.
But I like the sinking. The aftermath, then, is always this. My tendency to get lost in the deep. And the way life reaches down, pulls me back up. As if she knows.
That I might sometimes prefer to drown.
“I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths. And a great fear of shallow living.” ~ Anais Nin