Cope
The wind’s salty breath rushed between her curls, fashioned them into whips splayed across her face
It was two in the morning, she had gotten the message three hours ago.
Her chest ached with the lingering residue of her heaving.
Where her wedding ring once stood, her knuckle regained its color. She envisioned the blood pooling back into that so-long neglected place– the life flooding to the emptiness he left her with. In times like this, the act of living scolds one in the face. In times like this– it becomes impossible to neglect one’s own heartbeat.
The crying had stopped– the tears had passed through her, but saltwater begs for forgiveness. In times like this, empty two-AM beaches called for her.
There were no hands on skin here. Her only embrace was the water.
And how kind was the cold, she thought,
To be so honest.
Her bones felt stiff, and the ocean was cruel, but at least the frigidity did not lie–
And pretend to hold warmth within it
