Third Tide

First Tide

The first time I thought about dying,

I was fifteen.

I was watching New Moon

when I saw Bella

standing at the edge of a cliff,

ready to jump.

Ever since then,

every time I visit the sea, 

I watch as the waves break

against the rocks and imagine

what if

instead of the water

it was my body.

Will the water still be blue

Will the wind still sing

Or will it be dark

and silent?

Second Tide

I went to Phuket this year.

I ran to the white sand beach,

let the salty water

wash the blisters

still raw on my feet

after walking away from you.

I could feel the waves

pulled me closer,

held me tight—

a familiar embrace

the way yours once felt.

I let the water

replace the grief

that lived in my lungs

and realized 

the only way to remove pain

was to replace it with another.

Then it hit me.

Clarity flooded down my brain,

memories pounded in my chest

for all the names I no longer say,

faces I tried to buried 

rose to the surface.

I gasped.

But all I inhaled was the air

you used to rehearse

your vows on my skin.

I choked.

On the thought of you,

on her name

that was still soft in your mouth

when you kissed me.

So I let go.

I swallowed the water,

the way I swallowed the ache,

and the proof that I was never enough

to stay. 

I accepted it all

just like I accepted your absence,

your indifference,

in this sea of silence

you left me in.

Third Tide

I didn’t care anymore about defeat.

I left my pride on the shore

along with my car key, my wallet,

and a piece of note you wrote to me

as a joke.

For a long time,

I’d risen the white flag,

dragged it across the earth,

and still

you gave me no mercy.

So there I was,

beneath the crushing waves,

letting my body sink

with salt in my mouth

and your name

pressing against my teeth.

My eyes were open,

my ears still worked

but it was dark,

it was silent.

And forever 

I will be

the other woman.