i.

they say that when you drown,
it's nothing like in the movies;
it's silent.
there's no splashing,
no screaming,
no kicking or crying for help.

just
silence.

and i guess it's true,
for i am drowning --
there is water in my lungs,
pouring into my heart,
filling my veins and escaping from my eyes --
yet i cannot speak.

i am rendered speechless
by you.

ii.

i'm not so sure if it's
the smooth white sand
ingrained in your skin,

or the intricate seashells
that are your daintily painted
fingernails.

maybe it's the pulsing red
of a moon during high tide
that shines through
your scarlet lips,

or maybe
it's the crashing waves
filling the ocean in your eyes.

maybe it's the way you sweep me up
and pull me under,
stealing my breath,
invading my thoughts.

or maybe it's how you
are unpredictable.
you are in alliance with the erratic skies
and fickle moon,
and yet,
no one can control you,
no one can predict your next move.

iii.

i find it fascinatingly beautiful
how easy it is
for you to destroy yourself,
how you hide within raging whirlpools
and tear yourself apart from the inside.

people are afraid of the ocean,
but the ocean is a part of you.
who knows, though?
maybe you're scared of the ocean too.

iv.*

beware the girl with the ocean eyes,
for a heart that is eaten away by the sea
can never be whole again.*

(a.m.)

you write poems
about lost love,
broken hearts,
and failed redemption.

you write tragedies
about lonely nights,
crying minds,
and bleeding gashes of regret.

you write monologues
about voiceless mouths,
venomous words,
and inevitable decay.

you write autobiographies
about faded dreams,
unheard whispers,
and vanishing memories.

you write
about what once was.

and i do, too.

though i doubt your poems are about me
like mine are about you.

(a.m.)

i wish my words could reach you
because maybe then
you would open your eyes
and see
that you deserve every compliment you get,
and that you are a product of the gods;
that the sun's gentle kisses have seeped into your bones,
and that stardust is in your veins;
that your blood is divine and oceanborn,
and that your skin is the sand of that very same ocean;
that your eyes are vortexes of mystery and desire,
and that your smile is the planets aligning;
that your mind is a beautiful enigma;
and that you are simply
miraculous.

but i don't think my words reach you,
and, honestly,
i'm not sure they ever will.

but in the meantime,
just remember that your skin is the sand,
and that the blood of the ocean doesn't deserve to be spilled.

just remember that your eyes are vortexes,
and that they don't deserve the tears that so often fill them.

and,
if you will,
just remember that i love you.

(a.m.)