sea

I haven't been emotionally stable enough recently to be able to take silence as a reply from you, especially when you tell me something is wrong but won't tell me what. Nights like these I really wish I could run to the sea and let it swallow me up, my limbs caressed by the waves and my entire being engulfed by the darkest depths of waters.

But no. I can only contend with my sheets, whose softness bears more tangible weight than your presence, six days a week. It brings less physical comfort than the waves but it also means that I have to wake up the next day.