It catches me by surprise,

a blow to the chin

but the river softens my fall.

I feel it now, the damp,

seeping through my clothes

willing me to stand,

the water running by me,

without a care for the load

it now carries.

Her face fills the space ahead

contorted, distorted, unknown

she offers her hand and

eases me from my pit of despair.

She does not speak a word,

nor do I, but I wrap my fingers

around hers and breath deeply.

It is the last time I feel her touch

upon mine. Her eyes tell a story of

dysphoria and as I breath once more,

I know.

It is the end.