Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole

No other way 
To be. 

Expressive. 

Even when you 
Shut me 
O u t. 

Avoidant. 

Closed Clam.

Left on the sand 
As the sun sets, 
your lips open 
u p 
Dying

The scent of brine 
caked
white salt 
spoiled flesh

Rotten luck. 

When will we learn
To 
L e a v e.