to sam, a figment of my imagination and the fabrication of my thoughts

i don’t want this to be the last letter.

yesterday, i dipped my hands into the mason jar of sand

my father gave me at pensacola beach

back before the thing happened,

and i don’t think about it as much now

and it’s hurting less.

in my dreams i am underwater and no one can see me

i bang on their doors loud enough to wake up the entire city

but they keep sleeping.

tell me, sam, why can no one see me?

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