I sat there almost sleeping
two stories in my mouth
Four lungs total
divided evenly between my palms
Yours were the only ones my eyes could
fix upon
I’ve watched you a thousand times
but this night I
monitored

I kissed your fingers.
I strained my ears until
they bled
in order to catch your weakest whispers —
your most modest requests

I tried not to notice your gray lips, formed from sediment.
And each minute I wasn’t helplessly
flapping about,
my own heart tugged at the hem of my shirt like
a curious child and asked,
“Am I a good man in a storm?”
Irritated, I responded,
“How could you be so selfish?”

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Madeline Whitmore is a 22 year old literature student from New Jersey. Her writing takes many forms but is often influenced by nature, dreams, and visual art. Many of her pieces aim to capture surreal moments where time seems to stop. Her work has appeared in Spiritus Mundi, Floating Acorn Review, and Aetherium Literary. In her spare time, Madeline enjoys reading, painting, singing, and tending to her vegetable garden and many houseplants! Her Instagram is @madeline_whitmore.