a childhood bathing suit.

sunlight-warm pools

and you

picking at a wedgie

while trotting

from ladder to

springboard

again.

wave.

heights.

there is always one second

I’m not sure if I’m coming back up.

what if I’m just not strong enough?

what if I only almost make it?

start to panic

kick wildly.

flailing is probably the right word,

propelling up,

subjective,

I saw a picture of the earth’s geography

from space, with love,

and we forgot we’re not perfectly round.

we forgot we got mountains

and you don’t just find

diamonds like that

you chisel ’em

rougher around the edges.

I wanna not be afraid to try

I want to be awake today

you wanna be brave.

open your eyes underwater.

you might as well.

you’ll be back at the ladder soon.

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