Rybky

As my lips touch the base of your frail dorsal fin my hands kiss every scale of your luminous tail. I watch you swim away I ache to taste your skin I sink back in the dark I deny I'm half-shark.

Pragmatism

"What happens to me when you must go?" means I'm not worth taking a risk for or is it a way for you to show that you care for yourself above all? Who am I kidding? I do well know how practicality outweighs all feelings and regard that fall below the love I sadly still can't forego.

Drought

This downtrodden heart has drowned my emotions in a sea of unshed tears. Eyes like a desert sky burning but now too dry to form rain clouds and cry. Cracked and untilled, this soil yields neither crop nor oil barren, a waste of toil.