A Balloon by the Indian Ocean

The Poem

The Indian Ocean’s sharp air
stings my eyes
and batters the balloon I carried with me.

The balloon is the warmth I get
from holding my hands over a toaster on a cold day
and is the last thing of yours I have
from before the accident.

I let the balloon and myself go
and we stumble through the sky
looking at the shoreline.

My memory of your last words become only sounds,
the beach becomes only the sand
the world only the earth
and our old love
a balloon by the clouds.

Commentary

I... don't even know what this person's profile was about. I think... balloons... somehow? Or the Indian Ocean was mentioned? The Indian Ocean is awfully specific, so it probably involved that—yeah, we'll go with that.

Oh, and this poem is part of a series that I explain here.