Pulse

I went to the beach today.

And when I got home I showered.

My vanilla scented soap washed away the sand

and all the salt and the stickiness from the ocean,

but the scalding hot water could not wash away my pain or my grief or my fear.

As I felt the stream run down my face the water slipped between my lips in secret and it was salty

– and I will never know from what – for i have cried too many tears today.

So I will not distinguish the water from the waves from the water from my eyes.

They taste the same – but on this day one is made from freedom and the other is from fear.

I am too soft for this world.

By D.A.

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