She clings to him
as if to a life preserver
as the ship she sails
on sinks,
the ragged edge of
the iceberg,
having torn open in the side,
her life spilling
into the cold water of a reality
she hoped she could
avoid,
he the last flicker
of warmth she has,
and clings to him,
even though she knows
he can’t save her,
she must save
herself,
resorting to all that
she has already learned
about survival,
pleasant, unpleasant,
sour or sweet,
she needs to keep
her head above the water
long enough to reach
something substantial enough
to bear her to
safety,
clinging as hard as she can,
fingers nearly
bleeding
from the touch of what
had seemed so tender,
so pure, so right a year ago,
watching him slowly sink
as she swims on.
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