To Stomach It

I would crumple at your look again.
A lead mass would dive down deep
and plunging through
the thick oceans there
without friends.
It sinks deep into
and stirs about, making waves
on the walls.
They hammer back at me.
And the waves envelop each other
And bounce backward again on
themselves.
That's how hard it hits.

How do you swallow that?
How do you breathe then?
How do you look back with truthful eyes
when the chaos of your own universe
is mirroring right back at you?