I step out, air cold,
but my thoughts feel like water,
rising, rising—
too much to hold,
too much to say.

I want fire,
but all I have is the flood,
rushing through me,
filling every crack I thought was solid,
drowning the voice I’m trying to find.

The weight of it all pulls me under—
but I’ll keep floating.
One day, I’ll learn to swim.
For now, I’ll let the waves crash
and hope they hear me anyway.