The water had been singing my name since I left home.

I am a virus now that will contaminate the children. 

I’ve disappeared into my learning.

I could’ve sworn when I looked in the mirror I felt older. 

I am not defined enough.

The sea and sky’s faces touch in a perfectly straight line.

And so the morning is good.

Existential and lonely and oh so very angry.

This time with a “good luck” to punctuate it.

A smack across the head would suffice.

I am a sentient archive of unreachable dreams.

He also said that I would drive my husband crazy. 

I may have bitten her too deeply tonight.