i met you,
and you had me wondering since then.
how it took me years to find hope
only to realize that it can be seen
in the eyes of someone i love.
how, maybe, i could use a little sunshine
instead of sulking in my little dark room.
how you are that little sunshine.

how i can write silly, sappy poems
when i thought every letter my hand scribbles
only ends up in a goodbye.
how it took me years to know
there is someone like you out there
who could give hugs
i never knew i needed.
how it is unfair
that i could be having the worst day
but still feel light and calm
when i'm with you.

i met you,
and sometimes i wish i never had to.
because then i wouldn't have to
replay our conversations in my head
while smiling out of the blue.
then i wouldn't have to
stay up 'til dawn
thinking how someone can be so beautiful
wondering why
it has to be you that i want
when it could literally be anyone else.

i wouldn't be
missing you as soon as you leave
or wanting to hear
what is now a familiar sound of laughter
or wanting to see
what is now a familiar half-laugh and half-smile
i could never get enough of,
when years ago i didn't have
even the faintest idea
of your name
or how your touch feels.

i guess if i never met you,
i wouldn't be used to
knowing
and wondering
and thinking
and writing
about you and your lovely soul.

i guess it would be easier
to not be aware
that i could feel some love
when i thought
all my heart could do
is to feel hatred and anger and guilt.

and if i never met you,
i wouldn't have to know
how it feels to be
a little too happy
even when my life is falling apart.

but i guess if i could go back
to the day i met you,
i would be there,
at the same place and time,
and i can only wish
you'd choose to be there, too.

I'm in the middle of this ocean
which seems infinitely extending.
I try to swim
even though I don't know how to,
but all I ever see is water,
and more water
surrounding me.

I'm stuck in this cycle
of trying to swim all day
only to be tossed by the waves at night,
back to square one.
It just starts all over again.

Sometimes, I think, maybe it isn't worth it
to hope that the waters will be calm
until I reach the shore.
But I always, always end up hoping,
or maybe I'm not hoping,
maybe I'm just fooling myself.

I drown sometimes,
but I still, somehow, manage to breathe again.
My lungs hurt from trying to go for air sometimes.
I guess I don't have much of a choice.
So I breathe.
And swim.
And swim some more.

Sometimes, I swim
not to reach the shore
but to go away
from the place
where this all started — the middle.
I hate being in the middle of the waters.
It doesn't feel safe.

I am lost.
I swim but I don't really know the way to the shore.

I'm not even sure if the shore even exists, anyway.