It’s not Grief. It’s not drums in my head. I just forgot about what was real. I had forgotten about what was under the sea. The bright colors are on again. It has been to long to fake my own reception. Plus I never wanted to ring the bell-like you did. You embarrass me. I can’t even look at you. I know your just the summer you never linger long enough or so you say.
Come back and be the shark.
I don’t think the Goldfish understand the new plan.
You’re a slave to the bell. So I can’t talk to you in the fall.
I know your about to leave and I know you have to breathe above water.
Get up off the floor, stop crying.
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