Day eight.

The first three days were like an exhaleAfter months of cocooningAll the moths in my chestBut each day after thatFelt like swallowing and vomiting sandThat came with briny tearsI lay on this shore numb as the cool water takesIts share of my mind and bodyI still wait for it to take my painI don’t know who I amBut I want to find outI also know I wanted youAnd yet here we areAnd yet here we aren’t.