It will wash away, like all fringes of the sea do.
It won’t disappear completely, though it will hide itself. Dispersed and saturated.
I am watching you; wave.
This tangled strapping sea grass sludge, is heart.
And it sticks.
Some days, I hate the way I look, but I love the way I feel and if ever I were to really breathe under the water of myself, I might just remember.
It’s perfect here, no matter how ever it could be.
This is where I float.