Seventeen

Where the two rivers meet is a diverged crossroad. A rock, twinkling with water slowly correlates to a broken branch, while my knees desperately fit in between moss and over grown waves. Bleeding, my knees stain the waves red as my hands twitter across lines of water. I'm not dead yet. Nor am I drowning. I'm dreaming this. This passage into your heart, where my body disintegrates as soon as I get too close. Your arteries are pumping me out, your mind is shutting the body down. I can't breathe anymore, you've sucked my lungs dry from the poison of your demeaning kiss. I'm drowning now, while your smile is plastered under your nose...