Staying Under

I sink deeper than I meant to,

hands flat on the tiles,

the pressure building in my ears

like something is about to break.

The blue beneath me.

The light above bending.

The silence down here is not silence.

It's the sound of holding still,

of not rising,

of choosing to stay.

My palm against the pool floor

is the only real thing.

Everything else is weight.

Everything else is water.

I could stay.