I don’t know anything of poetry, prose or structure. Regarding this, I know only what I see with my physical eyes, my hearts eyes, and my minds eye. They are the unfiltered versions.

Floating

I can’t feel my feet
I can’t feel my legs. The water.
It’s large body and tired waves crashed against my legs
I couldn’t move
I couldn’t swim
I would not drown.

My lungs were filling. Every breath was a thought of
a past memory. Every breath was full and filled, I couldn’t cough.

The water crashed and I was twisted.
I was turned in every direction and could not find
the right way. I couldn’t find
the correct direction.
Would I ever end up in the right place?

The smell of salt.
The taste of salt.
Seemingly clear water.
I began to drift, drift asleep until the water reached higher
and moved me from my attempted
final slumber.

Would he ever know?
Would he ever find me?–floating.
Would he ever think to look?
It was as if he had sent me all his tears from losing me
and just as I almost made it home,
I was washed away by them, in all his tears–
his tears.

I scanned the caps of water only to see
what was left of me–sinking.
I look and saw what I had made,
what I had done and thought the sleep couldn’t come sooner.
I thought of all I had wanted, and
the price I paid to bypass the core to get it.
And wondered if he had coughed or if he could feel his legs.

Just when I had thought to stop thinking – I coughed.