My stomach, my heart, my mind
are all lost in a sea of maybes, of what ifs
And the possibilities swirl around me
as butterflies erupt from my ribcage
and flowers take their place.
Everything needs roots to grow
but you are not roots
barely even a seed
yet there you are, my barely seed
settling somewhere in the earth of my soul
keeping me lost in this sea
dancing with chances
flirting with unformed ideas.
There is something in me
that urges me to shore
yet here I stay swimming
holding on to something
some way, some why
holding onto the thought
that I think you might be my maybe