There should be a sign in this water that says,
“No fishing allowed.”
The supply is running low,
insatiable hunger for these scales will end in extinction.
Salmon swimming backwards,
I bend my spine in ways it was never supposed to go for you.
It will all run dry soon enough.
A bearded stranger cast his line towards me,
but instead,
I just bleed dry for you.
Swallow ink and continue penning verses for you.
Catch and release,
Find my way back again.
Swimming backwards.
I am too hooked on tomorrows that will never happen with the one
who never intended for me to swim into his net.
Stockholm Syndrome,
in love with the diver who plucked me from Atlantis,
Caught
and released.
Now,
it feels so much colder.
I never realized the ocean was this dark before.

Excerpt From: “I Promised You I Wouldn’t Write This”