Somewhere in the center of me is a subterranean sea. A deep, unplumbed well of dark. Unseen, but there. Its suck and swell as familiar as breath. A shadow at my periphery. Nothing that impedes or rends, just a sad, unfathomable part that shifts and sighs. Nothing you’d know about, if you knew me, but something you might just see, behind.
So, today, when I go home, I’ll turn off all the lights, pour one glass too many, stare at the grey sky and hope this spring tide recedes.