Melodies Beneath the Ocean

Daffni Gingerich


I walk in to find him reading my diary and while part of me wants to rip it out of his hands I beg him to read it out loud. Watching his face as he reads my thoughts so differently then I think them makes me tingle in all ways divine. But the secrets aren’t there anymore. They’re read out loud for anyone to grasp, floating on moon rays and caffeine highs. I want him to tell me I write like some dead poet or maybe one that’s alive but most of my favorites are dead and gone. Well, besides him of course. I’ve heard that you act like those you’re around most and in the timeless place our souls dance I would think, but then again, I can’t figure out where I end and he begins. Are we one. How far have I drifted or have I become accustomed…

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