sierra salgado Pirigyi is a freelance writer and editor based in omaha, nebraska.

Untitled

I sit at my desk
Lazy sunlight drifting
Into this room    
That used to be ours

It finally stopped raining
But only outside
From me, tiny droplets still falling

From the eyes that you told me
Remind you of the ocean
Deep
Blue
Sparkling

I wonder if
Now they look more like the sea
Cold
Wet
Polluted

The white oak outside my window
Is blooming
“But only to die,”
You’d tease me in spring

Little green tendrils
Cascade from the branches
“But only to die,” I think

But they don’t really die now,
Do they?
They come back again and again
Each spring. 

And I will come back someday, too.
“I won’t let you drown me,”
I speak