“W.H” — a poem by Brooke Boddie

Foam clouds.

Closely resembling the stars in which I came,

But even I shine brighter

Same taste as rain

—just smells sweeter.

Alluring, but could kill you

-If you could stomach the thought.

Nothing quite like it.

Relaxing; Goes well with wine.

The place I find solace.

If I fell asleep, I could drown in these thoughts.

No one knows what lies beneath the drain.

We only bathe in our sorrows on the surface.

My skin is dry and my phone is blowing up

I hope I feel better tomorrow.

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