Nothing that feels important, necessary. Fighting against people or words or myself and trying to figure out who's winning.
Maybe that's where I'm getting stuck. Don't want to be tugged, don't want to fall so much that I've lost faith in the feeling of the words. No wonder the poems are rebelling--they don't believe me either.
The sea can only devour if you allow it. The storm's always the roughest before dawn, Joss. Maybe there's a surprise hero waiting in the next chapter, someone with words stronger than ropes and oars.
Or you could let someone share theirs. Might be better than tea.