I feel shallow. The depths of what is surface to me have yet to be explored.

What determines surface but a beginning to an end of what has been known as depth, the end of the sky known as my surface.

The surface of me, the surface of you, the surface of the ocean, ever so blue.

When I look in the shallows of who I am, I find nothing but reflection, the confused face of mirrors trying to see past what is only there for vanity, for an escape from holding your breath as you deep dive.

Surface is a gasping breath and the fear of losing the air which you have become accustom to in the time you have been above the depths.

I am gasping to the surface and I stay there because I am afraid to drown.