REBECA BRITNEY

Rainy days

Grey skies and open wounds. Where are you? 

Salt hits me right where it hurts. The seagulls munch on my flesh for survival. Ouch, stop it. 

At least the air is warm. This could be worse, it could be cold and gusty. 

I get up so the birds leave me alone. 

In between my toes, the sand takes care of me. 

I walk closer to the shore and into the water, I float on my back to stare at you. 

You tell me, “Baby it’s okay, I got you”.

Tears flood my eyes. “But where are you?”

Finally, I give it up and begin to swim back to myself.

-Rebeca Britney