Poem: Underwater

[sherlockian_syn]

In a sea of faces,
I was drowning—
back when all of this
began.

And then she
appeared. She
reached out and pulled
the words from me,
until she found
their meaning.

She molded me
like wet sticky clay
into a person with
feelings and opinions
and stories to tell.
A person who refused
to be afraid.

Now that she's leaving
the doubt has returned,
seeded, taken root,
and I don't know if
I will ever return.