Blue

Blue. My skin, blue under the blue water. My flesh, blue beneath my blue skin. My soul, blue in a blue corner of my blue heart. Blue and cold and dead. Blue and dead and drowning. Drowning forever in these cold blue waters of the only sea ever to love me. A love that drowns, but love, nonetheless. It's been so long that I have sunk to the bottom of the sea where you can't see the surface. It's been so long that I have become one with the sea. I am the sea, yet the sea is not me. Not yet, at least. There are more like me. Thousands more. Thousands of eyes turned blue from the cold. Thousands of blue bodies. Thousands of blue souls. Of cold dead drowning souls. I can't see them but I feel them. Some are barely more than frozen bones resting at the bottom of this cold blue sea. House of crabs and food of fishes. They are one with the sea, as soon I will be. There are others whose soul is not blue yet. Or not blue enough. Who are still not dead or who think they are not. They souls still shine through, red, white, black. They are still fighting against the sea. Against the cold. Against death. They still haven't sunk into the depths. They still haven't accepted their fate. The sea took them and they want to go back, even though they have been drowning for a long time. I feel their struggle, I feel their desire to live, and I take them deeper. The currents, my hands, pushing them away from the surface. Showing them how the sea loves them. How much the sea loves me. How there isn't any other love. I show them that their soul has been blue all the time, that their flesh has been blue, that their skin has been blue. I show who they really are. Yet, they fight. I did not fight. The sea did not take me but welcomed me with open arms. My soul was already blue, my heart already cold and dead. My flesh and skin were not, but they were already filled with water and salt. Fate had put me on earth, alive. But I had always belonged to the cold depths of the sea.