isabeau, please come back.
my love [glum smile, dull eyes], i thought you just wanted a picnic by the beach? maybe the peaches and green apples bore you but a little splash and soak of seawater in your feet will do.
darling i told you to wait a little bit longer and i will join you. you said it was okay, you liked waiting for me ‘til the sealine devours the yawning sun unkemptly.
baby you said you were moon washing but why did vascular marbling, tarnish grey on your skin start appearing?
my love, my darling, my baby.
my dear isabeau,
you don’t need to learn how to swim, i can drink the whole ocean empty for you.
just please [faintly]
come [inkless]
back to me [broken nib]
๓.delilah
YOU ARE READING
17, Still Can't Swim
PoetryShe took madness too seriously, all written in paper with her own blood. Delilah's eighteen diary entries after her bestfriend, Isabeau, drowned in the sea during a full moon.
