Don’t you know what I think about you,
As you’re staring down at the water,
On a shore that seems endless
As long as you’re there to keep the waves away?
Don’t you see yourself, a shining replica of you
Locked in my eyes when my heart aches for your arms?
This feeling… like the time you laughed,
Your hair sweeping my hand briefly
One morning in the sleepless summer we met.
I wondered why I had to notice that you
Smelled of carnations and felt like something I’ll never
Know how to describe or understand.
Or the night, alone in your basement
When you wanted to play something like truth or dare.
No—truth or truth. And I declined,
Afraid of the questions you’d ask.
The stabbing ones I couldn’t answer,
And you not knowing why.
The water sweeps it all back into my mind with the tide,
And maybe I welcome it.
Isn’t it beautiful? you say with hands outstretched
As if to take the restless ocean in your arms,
And calm it with that voice that renders angels to envy.
Yeah, I think absently, watching you sway with
The rhythm of the waves that touch your skin.
Yeah, it really is.
*Wrote that poem a few days ago though I live no where near an
ocean (as much as I'd like to someday). The idea of talking on a shore
by a body of water that vast has always intrigued me. I have
to wonder if it's as blue as it looks in all the pictures.