you spend so long looking up the stars
counting them one by one, analyzing.
the sand beneath you crumbles
and you ignore the waves striking your feet.
it’s a cold night, but you’ve been told
your heart is colder so you didn’t bother
lighting up and warming your soul.
it looks better in pitch black anyway.
you know the campfire is a mile away, but
marshmallows and graham crackers
aren’t so enticing when the only thing
you can taste is blood, of chapped lips
constantly failing to keep a smile.
hours pass by and you wonder if
they’ll ever send someone to refill your coffee
and maybe sit beside you and telepathically
exchange prisoners from your mind’s jail.
you would stand up and look for the
barista with a telescope, but you didn’t
and you aren’t sure why,
so you continue to gaze at the moonless
sheet of ambiguity, scattered with tiny dots
of pretty nothingness, stars you call them.
you feel water in your ears,
the tide pulling back slowly,
attacking at varying great intensities
hitting you, a relentless, pathetic sightseer
observing until the waters engulf you
and your eyes can see no more.
