Jan 14th 26 (1)

I think something left me on the beach that day. In the time after the wave knocked me into the sand, while the water drove me down, something seeped out. Something important is gone. I feel it's absence in the hollows of my eyes where a twinkle used to be, in the weight of my heart where small wings took flight, in the coldness of my skin where warmth used to flush. Give it back.