Imprinted

She dove in

With no fear of drowning

Her lungs were already shattered

From the night she discovered another’s name

Written on the bottom of his foot

And suddenly realized

That there were other lips.

 

So now breathing had become a routine

Only the fortunate were lucky to have.

 

She floated in place

Allowing the seaweed to grow and take hold.

Their vines-

Careful not to startle her

Gently kissed her neck

And wrapped around her ankles

And her wrists.

 

They told her it was best if she just rested for a while.

 

Her mind drifted in and out of sleep

As the saltwater worked to bring oxygen

To the lungs he had knocked life out of.

She woke one night to find the bracelet

He had forgotten to get engraved

 Was rusting away.

But when she tried to catch the pieces of orange metal

That fell away,

The vines tightened.

 

When all the words in a letter she was holding

Tightly in her wrinkled hand

Melted away

The vines held strong

And she wasn’t able to take one final look.

But she didn’t care for the lose of exact quotes

Or the pain from the vines rough kisses

Because the ink and the promises for

A repaired future

Had already seeped into her pruned fingers

And became imprinted in her sleep.