Cold.

It’s cold and I am floating.

I’m buoyant and yet I have no weight.

There is no gravity underwater.

So I choose to sink.

Except I have to make myself sink.

If I let go,

I’ll float back to the top.

Where there is air,

where the light is visible.

Where my problems lay above the surface.

I feel the water cling to my skin,

feel the resistance as I tread.

For now

I choose to sink.