Backwash

Days keep coming back like waves on my feet.

I can save nothing from the foam of the sea.

I’m adrift in an ocean of shipwrecked keels;

and there’s nothing I can salvage from their treasuries.

 

No part of the sunset that appeals to me.

All of it merges in my memories; 

There’s only brown born from all the reds and greens.

Only, I drowned from swimming in the sea. 

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(A/N: It’s been a while since I wrote poetry that rhymed (many months to be frank) and I was nervous about posting this at all so please tell me if I should try this again!)