• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 08


My friends have gone missing again.
Some disappeared into the night
without even taking their phones,
coats, bags, or goodbyes.
Sometimes it is easier that way,
if not for the best.

Some hang around, knock on my glass
and tell me of their woes;
they let the agony of their years
drip out onto me as water torture.
I cannot even wipe my brow
to clear myself of their sweat.

I welcome their waves of torment,
I once was a mermaid, but now
am a flood barrier praying for a drought.