By Lucy Fox, TIWP Student

Rope ensnares me,
Caught in a fisherman’s net,
Gray ocean,
Gray eyes,
At this point,
I would take fire or water,
I could,
I would,
Take all the candles,
Imagine,
The feeling of burning,
Maybe you need to imagine,
Not me,
Fire,
It twirls around,
Climbing my skirt,
A desperate plea for attention,
I would do anything for you,
Please,
Please,
Notice me,
How pretty I must look,
How would I look when I’m falling?
You should look at me,
You have too,
The fire has begun to spread,
Up the sleeves,
Not the sleeves,
Not the lace,
Don’t burn the lace,
I love you my dear,
But I am a vain woman,
A woman who loves her lace,
I see one option,
Dashing for the cliffs,
Maybe I will survive,
But maybe I’ll die in my lace sleeves,
At least then I’ll look pretty,
At least then you’ll look.
With pity?
Possibly.
But a look is a look,
And lace cannot stand heat.
So I jump,
A fever dream,
It feels so,
Is life a dream for you,
It would be a nightmare without you in it.
The water hits,
Or rather,
I hit the water.
It swallows me,
Plunging,
Deeper,
Deeper,
Farther away from you,
My love.
I close my eyes,
But suddenly,
I am wrapped in rope,
It appears beneath me,
Then pulling,
Air escapes my lungs fluidly,
As if I wish to be the water itself,
But no,
Because the rope ensnares me,
And I break the surface of the water,
And stare into your gray eyes,
Holding onto your small boat,
I let the frigid water lap at my feet.
Beautiful,
You,
The water,
You both shine in the moonlight.
Gray water,
Gray eyes,
Both quite powerful,
Both quite great to love,
Do you love me now my dear?
Now that you see me?