The circuit of exile life,
each footstep too deep.
Amid bubble streams
and bubble tea,
the sea unfurls in poetic waves.
A crested tern drifts out,
the last of its kind.
Yet another plastic straw.
 
On the island,
sea’s sound in the breeze.
Night whispers, hummed
from blue stars – caress my face.
Staring at your absence,
love is so short.
Weariness follows,
then an endless ache.
Twisted over my soul.