WHAT I KNOW

It must have been like talking to a goldfish,
Secrets travel well in water, wrapped all safe in little bubbles.
Few know how well a goldfish speaks (in perfect cadence, diction like pebbles)
or how much she watches, how much she knows.
It must have been like that. Perfect, warm
Water-rocked.

It must have been sweet to build a castle to her liking,
pressed firm into those little blue rocks (and in full view of a glass-warped sky).
Few know how deep she sleeps in those tall walls
or how she makes the water laugh when she breathes.
It must have been like that. Every ounce of love in stone, solid
Immovable.

It must have been like that but completely different.
A goldfish can't leave footprints.