Portrait

If I were to draw a picture of me. I am standing still. All alone in the middle of an ocean that has no beginning and no end. My back is turned towards me. My legs are rooted all the way down at the bottom. The cold is slowly eating me up. Crawling through my veins. Jabbing its way to the top. It’s cold above the water. But it’s no match for what lies below and what will ultimately become of me. Blue all around. Not a breath of life, nor a touch of death. Surely the sun must be rising. For I can now see a soft thread of light slowly outlining my figure. Sedating my vision and numbing the pain in my legs. You are that heavenly illusion.