holding your breath

when there's
an ocean
running through
your house,
you can't
help but
wallow
when the
walls
of your mind
slowly peel
away
like
paint.

suddenly,
you find
yourself
drowning,
searching for
the foundation
of your heart
in the cracks
of floorboards,
as the water rises
and shows you
a reflection
the mirrors
failed to see.

if swimming
is the only option,
you will learn
to fly,
but the
flood lines
remain,
like a stain,
in the
corners of
your home
and the
windows
of your soul.