I Want to Meet the Dead

More than those who swim well, more than those struggling not to drown— I want to meet you, who no longer breathes at the bottom of the water. Rather than those who speak as if they understand, I want to hear the words of someone who truly knows how it ends. Among the living, there is no one I wish to meet anymore— only half-hearted, liars, not even dead. How much water did you swallow? As you drowned, how long did the sun remain visible? You would speak the truth. For the first time, I would have a friend. From you, I would listen to memories like poems, and from me, an apology for all I didn’t believe while you were alive. We would speak, without breathing, at the bottom of the water. No longer striving to become someone of worth, no longer reaching out to beat the water, no more bubbles— not even one— rising in place of suffering.