Poetry: Sinclaire

It’s not that the water’s too cold
Or even that it’s brown
It’s just the holes that let it in
That really get me down
It’s not the wind that makes me cry
Or what you didn’t say
There’s just too many holes in this sail
To let me sail away
It’s not that I’m afraid to jump out and swim
Off into the sea
There’s just nowhere else that I know
I would rather be
Words by Sinclaire. Photograph by Elisabeth.
