tide

your sweet nothings sound like riddles,

something discordant and unmanageable:

ignorance wearing the skin of an orator

or the hum of a harp, untuned.

you used to tell me i was beautiful

and with the sunlight filtering through

your seaspray eyes, i used to bite my tongue

just to make sure i stayed alive.

i used to stare at you,

propped on your elbows above me,

and i was terrified to blink,

like the moment might die and you

might, like a wisp of steam,

disappear into the sky.

but no, you're something liquid:

trickle-truths coalesced into torrents of lies,

and i have to dig my nails into your neck,

tangle my fingers in whispery strands

to stay afloat, sifting through silt

to find the words worth keeping,

but still i'm washed away.