Blue Seas

I dream of many things. I remember the pale, yellow sun, washing my face. I dream that I can see the sun again, perched up in the sky. I dream of the blue, transparent waters of the sea. The white sand slipping from under my feet with every fresh, frothy wave. I dream of the cold wind hitting my red, frostbitten nose. I dream of the feeling of my boots trudging on the fresh, flaky snow before it turns to ice. I dream of crowded concert halls. I dream of icy aisles in supermarkets. I dream of coffee and its painfully bitter taste on my tongue. Milk, no sugar. Left out on the kitchen table long enough to become room temperature. I dream of stained glass windows in churches. I dream of diving into a pool on a hot, summer day. I dream of bonfires and marshmallows. I dream of sitting outside, with chocolate fondue, the sea breeze whipping my hair. I dream of doing something worthwhile, accomplishing something, saving the world. I dream.  Because that is all I can do.

The deepest, darkest Levels of the sea get no Sunlight. Monsters live.

Don’t fall in love with me. I drink tea without sugar. And I marathon Jurassic Park when I’m feeling down. I make jokes exclusively in bad puns. I count the hours every day till the sun sets. Don’t fall in love with me. I talk to strangers in banks and at airports. I can’t have blended whisky anymore. I let my dog sit on my lap and occasionally kick me off the bed. And I always lose at Monopoly. Don’t fall in love with me. I leave plastic wine glasses with lipstick marks on the dresser. I wear jeans and t-shirts and boots every day. I am a little intimidated by beautiful girls. And I drink coffee with two espresso shots in them. Don’t fall in love with me. I will say exactly what I think of you without pausing to think If it will cause you hurt I’m too short and I will have to stand on tiptoe around you And you will always have to hold my umbrella in the rain. Don’t fall in love with me. I’m too tired in the mornings. I gent