You should see me.
Soft, hard.
Curved, chiseled.
Synchronized swimming in hope.

If the last time around today, you said “I’ve loved you,” forgive that I did not hear the splash of you landing next to me. 
I apologize for the poison in my ears and beg your pardon for the lead in my lungs.

These days are funny to me.
As I learn how to float, I mimic the small frys and water bugs frolicking around me. 

These days are strange to me.
As I strengthen my kick, I feel the distant hands of Some Kind Of Sea Creature softly holding my back.

My fins feel fine and you should see me.