now that you’ve broken through the glass,
shattered your soul-boundaries into
thousands of rough edges
and seen the ocean waiting on the other side,
breathing feels here so borrowed,
a heavy wet nostalgia and
mildew on skin that bruises too easily.
put your small hand in mine and unwrinkle your forehead;
the tide may be coming in but
we can still build castles out of the sand
that remains.
the tenth muse 
Such powerful imagery, both in words and picture.
“breathing here feels so borrowed….” what a lovely and powerful ending to the 2nd stanza! One day I hope to become as prolific as you are 🙂
Thanks for commenting on my blog!!
As you’ve probably guessed from my own poems, the shore is the heart’s marginalia, caching the brutallest ebb and flow of I and Thou, the intimate, I dunno — with and without an Other. High tide is good though it devastates every tiny castle of sand we love in.