I am pulling watery strings from my eyelashes like flower petals, one by one reminding me of what I have been running so fast from, she loves me not, she loves me not, she loves me not. It is a poisonous petal that I have plucked from my ribcage before. A thorny stem with no rose at its end, only another length of twisted brown and green. And I am drowning again in your sea. Only this time, there is a storm raging, and I cannot tell which way to swim for breath again, and I desperately need oxygen but your waves are now thrashing against me with a harsh finality. There is no coming up for air. She loves me not, she loves me not, she loves me not. I will close the gates and let the brambles grow wild around them. Let myself become a forgotten monument which lovers may visit in a thousand years, to hold each other quietly and kiss in the shallow sunlight, and thank the gods for the blessing I did not receive.