The drip, drip
Over months of nights.
On my head
As I lay wishing for sleep.
Reminded in syncopated droplets
That there’s no relief,
No coming out of it.
It’s a lake now
But an ocean by the time
I realize that this is all there is for me.
A fading, endless line of a horizon
That holds no promise of the sun.
Just the suffocating surety of water.
© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.
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