Shifting Tides

Sometimes this skin feels
tight around my organs,
my lungs burst into ash,
my veins shrivel into coils. 

Sometimes my lashes weigh
with the weight of a black
sea brimming behind the 
winter solstice of mascara. 

Sometimes these words fall
like sand through my fingers. 
An hourglass stopped up by
memories lost in the tides 
of a life better worth 
forgotten. 

– B. 

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