Samia Islam

A sea seethes
below the surface of my skin.
With the slightest touch, I will crack open, and
into your cautious lives (swiftly,
like tides rising before a tsunami)
in wanton destruction.
For seven years,
you will find no respite from your thirst in me,
standing knee-deep in the fetid, festering
cesspool of my final contravention.
I'll douse out the embers in your eyes;
my lachrymose grief will rend
one eternal night of ashes and dust,
as Poseidon's frantic belligerence
drowns your oblivion
for years of reckless, blind indifference.

A sea of tears rages
below the surface of my skin.
I live in fear of the gentlest touch.