I wake up.
I wrap my nimble, white fingers
around a fat, clear glass
filled with translucent water.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp—
And suddenly, I am awakened.

The sensual glide
of water across my tongue,
penetrating the slit between my lips,
caressing my teeth with
a sharp burn,
tumbling down
the back of my throat, and
landing peacefully in my gut,
like snowflakes on to land.
The movement is slow
yet glorious.

I wake up.
Something is different…
Have I changed?
Have you?
Thump. Thump. Thump—
And suddenly, I am awakened:

Not by the taste,
nor by the touch;
by the internal rhythm
of my being,
of my presence,
of my aliveness,
which has transitioned
between states,
like water over land.
The flow of life continues,
and I am a new woman.

Brinn W.

This poem was created and written by Brinn Wallin. Please do not steal or copy without permission.  

*All Rights Reserved*

I wake up.
I peel my clothes off my body,
yearning one last breath
as I pull my head under.
Bubble. Bubble. Bubble—
And suddenly, I am awakened.

The arousing cascade
of my body into liquid,
dipping my toes,
my legs,
my bottom
and upper halves
into a substance
that engulfs me,
like a flood over land.
The motion is quick
yet transformative.