Center Self

Rewind your
appealing layers
for purveyors peddling

exposure;

an open and shut case airbrushed in
the name of
hatred for form,

flesh worn
like sweaters from the

get-go.

You are
a treasure trove of bounty in
abandoned coves,

a seashell on

long shorelines I will
guard until we’re old

and crumbling.

Immersed in sand
and throwaway
stones,
you showed me to listen for
the water in
my ears,

words I always feared the
waves could speak.

You are a feat surrounding
what’s washed-up and
washed away,
the sole standing
tower of
sand castles’ decay.

I dare say
even seas covet
as much,

old tempers
they feign.

May you
always remember
they’re indentured to
tides,

whereas you’re unconfined
wherever your
grains of
beauty draw
their lines in

sand.

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