she sits on the edge of the water and is anchor for every ship that passes. slick hair, burnt toes, and acrylic nails. shes so nasty so hurt so broken so forgotten. she doesn't step on odd squares and she likes 5 spoons of sugar in her tea. as she watches the sea, anger subconsciously forms behind her unwavering cavernous brown eyes. her rage manifests its way into waves and the sky that was once tranquil azure has metamorphosed into a tempestuous ruby-filled chest dotted with dimoands that dance in the breeze. she is like lyssa, blind, furious, and all intentional. her rage is borderline insanity but the gods know no difference. as puissant as she is, mother nature is more. she caresses her, puts her worries to bed, and buries her burdens. she remerges a newborn. pomegranate seeds waiting to bloom in the winter and lemons saplings only just squeezed. stormwater has immersed itself into dirt and branches once snapped have returned to their mother's arms.
