Lost At Sea

The humidity is rising, she feels it in her hair, on her skin. A thickness weighing her down, heavy in her lungs. Sticky air, hard to breathe. The salt on her face- her own, the ocean's- commingling, a different acridity. Stings. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Bitter harsh pointed words. Communication breakdown. The devolution of care. When cross purposes collide old ghosts rise from their graves, decaying, conjured by the inability to acquiesce. Ancient rage wreaking havoc on the living ones they've left behind. Bury your dead, bury them, leave them lie. Incinerate them, blow them up into smithereens, scatter the ashes to sea. The fetid stench of death and anger dragged behind like an anchor mooring them in separate seas. Hurricane's coming and neither has the wherewithal to change course. Seek refuge, find safety, weigh anchor, head for home. Chaos reigns, self preservation at all costs overrides one for all and all for one. The shift is so minute; if either side is off course by matter of degrees then the entire plan falls apart and it's too late to steer clear now. The eye of the storm brings a false sense of security. It's calm here. But the edges start to ripple and waves threaten to sink them both. A tsunami bigger than all the love and respect and thoughtfulness they laid before them. Wiping out the bonds of communication so that nothing survives but the shell of their ships, stripped back to the bones, hollow, water pouring over the joints and frame, rotting from the inside out until waterlogged and barren they both sink, lost in the ocean of conflict forever.