I wonder what it is— the sorbet colors of sunsets, dawn’s warm cheek on her surface, her vastness rocking eternally from tranquility to turbulence

—that brings the ocean to tears constantly; her eyelids, briefly filling with water and salt, rubbed raw with the things

she can no longer carry: a tangle of seaweed, a dead jellyfish, bottles of heartache and soul-stuff she was unwillingly burdened with.