Surface Light Is Far

I dress like the morning is mine

I answer with a steady face

The room turns blue around my hands

My voice arrives a second late

I hold my breath through crowded halls

The phone lights up inside my palm

No one hears the pressure start

I fold it underneath my heart

Surface light is far

But I can see it move

Above the weight, above the dark

A silver line breaking through

I breathe less than I need

But I am not gone

There is air inside my ribs

There is a pulse holding on

I learned to make my footsteps soft

To never shake the glass

Their voices move above my head

Like home I cannot ask

Every name they place on me

Sinks lower than my own

I keep my eyes on distant blue

And count the spaces in my chest

Surface light is far

But I can see it move

Above the weight

A silver line breaking through

I breathe less than I need

But I am not gone

There is air in my ribs

A pulse holding on

If I rise too fast, I break

So I rise by letting go

One small inch inside the dark

One slow current from below

I am not the silence here

I am not the weight I keep

I am the breath beneath the blue

Learning how to leave the deep

Surface light is far

But I keep looking up

With pressure in my blood

And salt inside my mouth

I breathe less than I need

But I am not gone

Somewhere under all this water

My own lungs are turning on