Your eyes, akin to oil spills
Gleaming green, blue, yellow-brown pool together
To pull me in. Keep me stuck.
I have spoken of drowning before.
But in your presence, I am content.
Feet stop kicking.
Body stops flailing.
With my nostrils flared upwards
I stare at the calm vast sky ahead.
I succumb to the stillness,
As you entrap me.
Isa Abril – writer with a feral fervor. Twitter: @amazingfringe