I swam in your ocean, Anna.
I drank the salt of your skin
until it gave me hallowed sickness.
I told you,
I was never good at staying anyone's friend.
I spent three weeks convincing you I'd try.
When I didn't succeed, why did you act surprised?
You keep shifting shape.
And that isn't fair.
I got tangled in your weeds, Anna.
I struggled and howled,
you talked with warmth, ran fingers in my hair.
I told you,
I wouldn't live past thirty-five,
you said,
I wouldn't make it to twenty-five,
I told you,
I was evil,
you told me,
you were eviler.
I told you,
I was evilest,
you said,
**** superlatives.
I saw you drown yourself in yourself, Anna.
Wallowing in the cold wind
of one demented abecedarian.
You keep shifting shape.
And that isn't fair.
I told you,
to keep your feet moving,
you said,
I needed to stop talking,
I told you,
I was ready to marry you,
you said,
I would never escape my
ex-girl collection,
I told you,
Anna, if I can't have you
you're going to destroy you,
you said,
you'd like to see you try.
Let your waves crash against me,
let your wind carve,
I will say I love you,
until one of us dies.
Copyright 9.25.10 by J.J. Hutton