...into the sea

standing on the beach before the hurricane winds hit their full capacity was the only thing that ever made any sense to her 

she would scream into the ocean during a storm "what do you want of me?".  
her fists clinched, angry tears streaming down her face - she would demand to know her purpose 

why was she to be left alone

it was three in the morning and she would write, her thoughts danced in her head 

they teased her, eluding her to the point where she wondered if she was going mad
would they heal her or make her feel more deeply? 
she was not sure she wanted to go deeper

she could hear his whispers in them

if she wrote them would she even find the words to articulate them fully

a lucid thought in her chaos?

she would need more 

nothing was enough  

there would never be enough language for the depths of her soul