To Be Caught

“I feel spread on a pourous surface

Like I’m being strained.

Like I’m seeping into something darker.”

She felt the large body of water gushing past the bridge pulling at her insides.

Hair flickering in the breeze,

She cut it on her teeth.

A man watched from his apartment,

Mesmerised by a ghostly image,

Or the omnious moment.

Frozen by a stupidness.

He dropped his toothbrush and released froth filled scream, “Oh my God!”

There was nothing sonorous about a silhouette being swallowed by a relfective surface.

All she ever wanted was to be caught.

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