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Sometimes I go back to that place.

The one I

love

love

hate.

Where I stood

in the sand

in the moss

in the grass

scattered with candy wrappers.

Where she left me

in the dark

and left herself again.

Where I was made

and everything broke.

Sometimes I go back to when

they would splash so I could hear them,

barely above water,

from where I stood in that lake

my feet on the ground.

I don’t want to leave the ground.

I should have left the ground that night.

The night I could not

love her and

keep her safe.

But in my head I’m still under four feet tall

and the water closes over my head

the diving board is

miles away.

I can’t tell how much I’m willing to give.

Drowning doesn’t seem real

until you want me to make it out there

and I am gasping as my mouth fills with

possible endings instead of air.

I run too fast when things get real,

treading water in time.

I swam out to the dock

for you.