You have to spend your days living in the present, which is a place where I can’t presently be. Miles and hours will always separate us. It’s our constant struggle. That’s why I’ll always belong to yesterday. I’m made to be a memory. Something to be overwritten. Something you’ll forget. I look to my future and I don’t even know what I’m looking at. Question marks and blurry images work against my vision and cloud my judgement. I’m walking on the paved path set before me, not even knowing how my direction has already been cemented into place. All I know is that I feel as gray as the pavement I see under my own feet. The world is so lush around me. I can feel the adventures pulling on my heartstrings. How I long to venture off into the dense green unknown. But then who will I be? If I break from the monotonous predictability from the life already set before me, will I have more or less purpose? I ask myself if I will just be lost in the idea of a dream? A question I already know the answer to. The longer I spend in a dream, the harder it is to readjust to reality. If you ever want to look, you’ll know where to find me. I’ll be living in your yesterday because I can only dream of your tomorrow.

You are the sea, deep but so hidden. Has anyone ever seen just how much more of you there is below your surface? Your waves will drag people out off of the shore and into deep waters. That is when they will break and spit them back onto the shore. The waves will be short-lived, never holding anyone for too long. Because all there is, is you.

You are the sea, giving and mysterious. People will flock to you for your beauty but you will keep a cool distance to stay safe. Keep them in shallow waters, nowhere near the person who you truly are. People will still try completely immersing themselves in you, showing you their vulnerabilities and you will completely ignore the importance of the gesture. Because all there is, is you.

You are the sea, surrounded by life but choosing to live alone. Those people that you see every day will ever only be people. Too many variables keep changing so you will only give the people enough of yourself to get them wet. Those storms that turn your insides will only ever be your own burden. Because all there is, is you.

I am a boat, pulled out and pushed back to shore by your waves. What could I be to the sea? My paint is chipped, my hull is cracked, and my interior is just as worn. But I will always brave your unpredictability as long as you let me, as long as you let me in close. I will tread the deepest waters because I have looked down into your depth and I have seen what you need. If a constant is what you need, Sea, then the constant is what I will be. Because it will never have to be only you.

These words remain untitled,
Unsure of their real label.
Do they tell a story of loss or of love?
Of confusion, no doubt.
So many emotions, yet still no left words to describe.
The darkness in which I sit, is almost defining.
The quiet rings against my worn eardrums.
Night, which brings solace to others, brings uncertainty to me.
For I am a victim of tomorrow’s antics.
Memories and dreams draw near to each other,
The pair, a frightening combination.
Torment rakes through my night,
Leaving no sane survivor.
The moon pokes at my eyes to keep me awake.
My regrets and potentials poke at my brain.
Mistake after mistake after mistake,
There is a future out there for me that holds a similar fate.
The question echoes in those ringing ears of mine again.
It stretches and folds against my gyri.
There is no escaping the poison in the thought.
Is who I am enough?
These words remain untitled,
Afraid of their real label.