Salt

Even though each day I feel less and less like I’m sinking,

I still find crosses to carry, burdens that keep me from winning.

Their tentacles wrap around my ankles as I swim up.

I know they’re lying when they offer me to drink from the cup.

Each day the sun rises, but it delivers a little less warmth.

It is punishing me for refusing to play the damn part.

The rays twist and turn through the layers of my pulsating skin.

I still find curses to bury, legacies that I simply cannot win.

-Jackie