she is young, black haired
heavy belly struggling up a flight of stairs
and through a large family of disapproval.

still too afraid to rifle through
his old belongings, lest she misplace something
and send her steady life
crumbling to the floor.

she is fits of sleep, only able to lie on her side
these late days
dreaming of him, an older him with
furrowed expressions but still the same
tender seedling heart.

they are an embrace, a simple change in
proximity to one another. closer
with hearts peeling away the crusts
of being alone.

beneath her eyes, she grasps tightly to this serenity
between the flaky layers of sleep.
but she is also darkness
suddenly waving her arms beneath waves
of blue ink, unable to breathe in dreaming,
the heaviness of drowning setting upon her chest.

awake, she is shaken,
caught in brief movements of grief,
moments of rejected memory.
and she is only,
hand clenched midair, dreaming.