The sound.

Here in the now of it all

we, I, you, us. 

The melodic cacophony of my lungs beating against the back of my breasts. 

Did I love myself once? 

Before is a time I struggle to recall. 

Like the white breath of roses,

it smells too sweet to stand on its own. 

And suddenly in the now of it all

I am a thousand beating wings;

a loudness. 

What does the queen call a pawn? 

In the depths of beauty, we find

what we want

And give away the hope of becoming 

something more. 

A swan drowns in the lake she grew up in. 

I drown in you. We. Us.