Water, Down Under
I float alone on my raft atop the sea for
the water has taken my lover’s bones.
Some nights, I faintly see her grin
in the reflection of the cerulean blue.
Some nights, I can see her eyes as
the saving grace of my nightmares,
soft hazel in the eye of the storm.
When the storms get too rough,
they are often conjured up
when I ponder the memories
of brushing skin and sweet whispers
we had shared in the dark, long ago.
I desire little but to leave here,
preventing the torment I have placed on
others with every step I take on this earth. I
do not want another soul to be taken simply
because of a simplistic love, attempting to
plaster over the cracks from harlots I have
sated this loneliness with.
I crave a home that no love can fill, far
away from any of those I may damage. I
wish for a home far away from the world,
far from the cosmos of the atmosphere,
lost in the tendrils of time,
distant from my lover
who is six feet under.
By Chelsea Anne Sanchez
Chelsea Sanchez is a Psychological Sciences major from the class of 2024. She dabbles in creative writing as she sees fit, expressing her memories on paper whenever possible. She resides in San Diego, longing for a dog, a hazelnut iced coffee, and a bit more excitement.