Castaway
I wish I could talk to you.
Respond to all the gunshots you fired at me.
Explain the constellation of pockmarks crowning my mind.
But I am just a shell of what I used to be.
Flimsy.
Fragile.
Empty.
You can’t hear the roar of the ocean
Feel the spray of my misty eyes
Taste the wind rushing from my mouth into your ears
If you don’t pick up and listen.