6/16/2025, 9:54 PM
There is no surprise in the way she turns her head to him, slow and distant. His voice echoes in her head. She thinks, perhaps, he's not real. She's not real. She can't feel her toes. But she drinks him in, the size of him, the way he moves. A checklist, in comparison to the way she sees her body down below, smaller than him by far.
He could destroy her. She wouldn't stop him. Couldn't, even.
Strangers, she knows, she should trust less. But she cannot think of danger right now, and she's sure if she were to die here, she would see it. She's seen it every time, hasn't she?
"I am." She's not. "I can swim."
He could destroy her. She wouldn't stop him. Couldn't, even.
Strangers, she knows, she should trust less. But she cannot think of danger right now, and she's sure if she were to die here, she would see it. She's seen it every time, hasn't she?
"I am." She's not. "I can swim."
hold on to something stronger than blood
something stronger than words
something stronger than empty air we breathe
when weaker is all we seem to be
something stronger than words
something stronger than empty air we breathe
when weaker is all we seem to be