They told me you died in the ocean,
your face distorted by the waves,
and the fluids filled the empty spaces in your lungs.
They told me your head hit rock bottom,
and the saltwater was the last thing you wanted to see.
They told me you died with a smile,
your limbs no longer trying to remember how to feel,
slowly numbed by the tides,
as the kiss of the moonlight sang you to sleep.
They told me you died in the ocean,
while learning how to be loved
by the very thing killing you.
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