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under water, over seas

by Luna Afra Evans

to drown, to swim

from fire to freezing

from secret to desire

are you even in the moment

when others don’t hear you?

i surely am not.

there is something freeing

about this.

the first time

i knew who i really was

i was still a child

are you even taking a breath

when others don’t feel you?

i surely lack the oxygen.

i kept my head under water

so I never had to reach the shore are you even moving

when others don’t see you?

i surely can swim.

(i dive so i don’t have to choose my coast) from fleeing to freeing

i was afraid of drowning

for the longest time

and now i cannot

get enough

of your ocean

let me dive

deep

let me live

forever

in you

- let us swim together


home is where shame is not

where i am from

my friends and i would run into the sea

the darkness

is the fabric on our bodies like silk on our skin

i see her shoulders from afar his head turning

lebensbejahend

(saying yes to life)

towards the sheer endlessness the moonlight is caressing our faces

painting intricate patterns of light in nature

oh, to be young

i smile as the cold water gently touches my breasts no weight, just floating no discomfort, just flying oh, to exist

in a body

close to other bodies

without shame

all the burdens of the everyday left alone on the shore

with childlike laughter

the water is our playground in between decisions

the most gentle collisions you have ever seen

we lost count

we lost track of time

under the stars

i hold you close

you hold me tight

we felt a piece of forever in that night


dating on the line

first

it is the precious state of loneliness

lovingly alone, it is

a particular time to

perpetuate

penetrate

peculiar

ideas

second

is the desperate state of clinginess

crucially hiding in a

search bar

all tabs are open to

suffocate

sexualize

separate

ideas

first

it is the shameful state of aftermath

confusedly recollect, it is

a reaction to rejection, to

reconcile

reinvent

Revolutionize

your intricate bouquet of

things

your bouquet of being

all

your(s)

ideas


something like a body, not yet a temple

body

this is morphing

where’s the morphine

to numb

what’s left from

suffering

it is not

pain yet

it is pain

fully understood that

one can live somewhere

that is not their home

yet i wonder

do i just have to renovate

what’s left?

“your body is a temple” etc.Inc. but what if it feels

like a wreck

what if you don’t even

know what

your architecture looks like

seemingly

everybody just

picks something from the

catalog

something they admire

or others like, at least

what if i tried

and still do not know

tricky to live let alone

to invite someone in

when you don’t even know

what your home is supposed to be or even what it looks like

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