"Not I" by Dominique Raquel Morris

Sometimes I feel like she drowned a long time ago. 
Sank to the bottom of her sloshing mind, hungry waves licking at the inside of her skull.
Drowned and replaced her self with a lie.
No one sees past it or wishes to, but I am left wanting more.

I plunge deep into her soul, seeking and searching.
Cold, stiff fingers interlock with mine and send a sickly shock down my spine.
She cringes away from my warmth, but I endeavor to hold on as the current changes, growing stronger and violent and threatening to pull me under.
"So you do feel," I whisper triumphantly, teasing words forming bubbles on my tongue.
Her eyes well up and she flushes me out like so much waste.
Dribble down her cheek.
Drip off her chin.
I splash to the ground, my hopes splattered across the pavement. 
As she turns and walks my regret seeps away and I am left wondering at my brief moment of insanity:

Who could ever love a girl with a head full of water?