I dreamt that I slept beside you in a glass box,
there, but not any closer.
The ocean is murky green,
under the waves I see fingertips of sea weed reach for the sky.
I sit at the edge of everything and since I can’t talk to you;
I tell the ocean that I feel filled with electricity and tentacles of ice.
I dreamt that my mouth was filled to the brink with ink,
and I swallowed you down.