Liquid Fever in a Marble Cage

The city above is a jagged scream of neon and concrete, but down here, I am the only thing that breathes in rhythm with the silence.
I press my palms against the marble skin of these forgotten statues, seeking a pulse where there is none. They watch me drown in my own longing—a fever that refuses to break even as the water chills my marrow to the bone.
You are the ghost in my lungs, the forbidden warmth I crave while floating in this sapphire grave. Every ripple is your name whispered by the current; every fish is a fragment of a dream I am too terrified to wake from. It is a beautiful violation, this way of existing—suspended between the life I left and the death you promised me.
Let them search for me on the surface. Let them think I have vanished into the blue. I am not lost; I am simply choosing to stay here, where the pressure is perfect and my heart can beat without permission. One more breath of your memory, and I will finally let the water take what is left.

Editor: The Escape Plan