Splash!* The ocean goes.
Hitting that big, old stone.
That create such beauty
in a form of a sound
that is more likely a melody.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The waves call for me.
How thrilling it is to hear it shout my name,
for what calls me now
is what thrills me.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The wind starts to whistle,
making me dance alongside the water.
My toes are being embraced by the sand
from which I am tracing on.
I am loved.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I move closer
to hear each whisper.

The vast emptiness of this large body of water
may **** me,
but why do I choose to let thee?

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I am scared but hell, do I want to know?
For what purpose does it murmur my existence?
I am scared
yet it embraces my name.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I conquer my fear.
I learned to love
what loves me
but hell, do I really know?
When it could actually **** me?

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The vast emptiness of this large body of water
may **** me
but now I choose to let it be.
For I am loved
by the sound that the ocean makes.
I learned to love
what loves me
that will only eventually **** me.

and I swear, the moment our skin touched,
I felt it burn
like it was all wrong
and invalid.
I watched myself turn into ash.

Love,
I'm troubled.
The four corners of my room
no longer provide enough space for my thoughts.
I feel the need to evacuate my mind.
But our house,
rock-built,
never enough to stand still.
My thunders could only strike it down once
and its walls would crash as it's done.
It was never capable,
never capable of being called home.
I ran.
I ran as fast as I can,
along my journey
I found you
my long lost human.
You lend your arms
as if it was a four-cornered room like what I had before.
But it's completely different now.
Your arms could only extend to its limit
and yet, it feels like it could shelter me.
It's enough to shelter me and my thoughts.
Your two arms,
muscle-built,
always enough to provide me home.
The home I only had now.

I speak to you as if I am the pen
and you, my partner
is the paper.
My ends continue to touch you
as the story goes.
There, you stay still
and wait til I finish
yet neither of us wants us to diminish.
I am the pen,
and with you, my paper,
no story will I ever let be abolished.
I will continue to write.
Every drop of my sweat will be worth it,
because as I continue to write,
we continue to live.
I will continue to write
not only your story,
but also how I came up with yours
and how it perfectly goes with mine.
How I,
the pen,
the writer,
continued to write,
continued to live.
In my heart,
I am the pen,
the writer,
and never will I ever let you die in my works.