silence...

my silence from not seeing

from not setting

not wanting my set

landing her direction

such weather calms the waves within my tongue... her swell falls, draws, the sand closer

grounds with my darkness in each of, and....every days end forecast.... my own possibility of catching a moon glowing down and surrounding my feeble sun

it has begun the speak of her motion stalls

tides scrape bloody sand out to sea...gone.....yet aware... that watered and salty blood creates a new line

born from struggle...one strong...right...without riddle......

.