drowning in the english summer

 
the rain is unfuckingrelenting. she is pulled back in like

uhh like scummy sea foam, like salty cum drops wriggling down the drain.

the water calls her by the name she chose.

after all a grey sky is just a very darkened blue; after all this time

so far from any river or lake
the tongue imagines a fall
to quench that ideation

and she loves falling,
i think

because she knows she's supposed to have wings
and that's how you learn.