A scruffy little thing, waking among the pebbles. Breath sour from sleeping in the day again. Clothes creased, undone, torn and worn in.
Some rocks are sharp, and some rocks are soft.
Body soft, body waves, body rocks; she looks out to sea. Tide rolling in as she rolls a tiny pebble between fingertips.
The clouds are heavy and so low that they calmly touch the water. Strands of hair are alive, and gently kiss her cheeks.
“sssssshhhhhhhhhh,” she replied in kind to the sea, hugging her dirty knees, and closing her eyes for
just
a
second.
She fell into freezing waters, still asleep.
Cold – sharp like rocks – pinched her awake, and she turned to face the sky.
She floated with prickles behind her eyes, and sand escaping from swirling strands, as she thought about the magic of drowning. Prickles turned to patters and the clouds covered her.
She closed her eyes for
just
a
second.
