Samantha Lamph/Len



We used to twist

our fingers into lace,

and suck on sour candies

in lieu of peppermints

before diving into a kiss,

where we sometimes swam for hours.

I never told you how I felt

each time you led us back to shore to collapse

into the sand that would coat our bodies

like glitter, like barnacles 

affixed, holding fast: 

your tolerance of land, gravity, and oxygen

always left me feeling thirstier

than I had before,
even as I choked up

all that salt water 

& swallowed it again, washing down
each unconvincing reassurance, denying

and then defying the tide

drowning the doubt, with or without

your help or the current’s.


Samantha Lamph/Len is a writer and cat masseuse living in Los Angeles. She is also the creator and co-curator of Memoir Mixtapes, a literary magazine that brings our love for music and writing together in one medium. You can read more of her work in Occulum Journal, Moonchild Magazine, and Queen Mob's Tea House, among others. Find her online at or follow her on Twitter @quandoparamucho.