Maybe if I step on
enough flowers
or break
enough  
hearts  
I just might forget
I'm made of broken parts

Place your hand upon my chest.
It reminds me how it feels when it's mended.
Then use it to cradle your head while you rest.
The worst of it, like the day, has ended.

He is the tumultuous ocean,
The twisting, rolling sea
That feigns a certain gentleness
Until its rage breaks free

So vast and so unending
And limitless in worth
I took him once for granted
As I wandered through the surf.

Without the tumulus ocean
Without its rolling seas
Without the tide that tosses me
And never sets me free

The arid, fallow earth would crack
Beneath my burning feet
Reminding me of which I lost
And dried up with the heat

But salt leaves me to languish
No sweetness he can quench
Time will only tell from here
If love can fill this trench.