Day eight.

The first three days were like an exhale After months of cocooning All the moths in my chest But each day after that I coughed up sand That had crept past teeth and under eyelids When I thought I had clothed myself I lay on this shore numb as the cool water Weathers away my flesh and sinew And only grief finds a home in my shell It wasn’t big enough for both of us And so here we are And so here we…