I do not stand by the window and weep as you leave. I do not stand by the sea and reflect on what I’m doing. I do not acknowledge my phone ringing, again.
Grow a pair of ovaries and stop thinking. Start doing.
I clench my toes and feel the sand compress beneath them.
The waves are salt and ice, kissing my ankles.
Have you noticed the way my hands form fists when you ask about the past?
Water on my waist always felt colder than anywhere else. My body tenses but does not stop. I have seen a desert in the water.