your name tickles my tongue
lips quivering like it stung
hidden message in my eyes
to know that if my heart breaks
it shouldn't be a surprise

i used to swim a lot.
  i swam so much,
    my mum used to call me a mermaid.
      i'd take three deep breaths,
        then dive into the pool head first.
          & even though i was told not to,
            i'd keep my eyes open.
             as i swam,
            merely inches from the bottom,
          i kept my eyes wide open.
        i'd see the rays of light,
      breaking through the surface.
    as i swam,
  wiggling like a mermaid,
deep beneath the water,
  i kept my eyes wide open.
    i'd happily watch,
      as the lines of light,
        danced across the floor.
          to me, those reflections
            at the bottom of the pool,
            looked like marble tiles,
             lines of blue smoke,
            or lights from shiny shells.
          it was always peaceful.
        graceful,
      magical,
    beautiful,
  it was always my happy place.
& your eyes...
  they're pale blue,
    with little hints of green.
      & i stare at the lines of blue,
        dancing in your irises.
          it's as if the goddesses
            of the water
              have blessed you,
            with shards of water.
          shards of where my heart is home.
        & when i miss my happy place,
      all i need to do,
    is dive myself into your eyes.
  because your eyes
are my happy place.

""It's weird, you know. Meeting all the requirements for living things, but not feeling like it. You tell yourself just breathe, breathe in an out, in and out, until you can do it without reminding yourself. I find it amazing. What makes us human? Genetically, trillions of things, but what makes us separate from all these 'wild animals'? Compassion? Compromise? I haven't seen that in years. At least not in genuine fashion. Those all come at a cost. Everyone wants something in return for it. I think that's what fuels my fire, knowing everything comes at a price."
"Love comes at no cost" she'd say.
"Love comes at the highest cost: there is expected love in return. There, you are expected to keep living, breathing. They want you around, even if you don't want to be there yourself. That's the cost of living and love. Doing more than just existing in this world, even if it's just for others sake.""

My painter friend looked at me and laughed,
"I can't draw, I've told you that," I said.
"What a sad life to not be able to place your emotions on a canvas,"
he grinned.
"I don't paint but I write," I replied, "Want to know the difference?"
Intrigued he awaited for my answer,
"Your art is for the eye, but mine's for the heart."