It’s funny. I used to see the water in your eyes.
Like little raindrops, they were either lake or an ocean,
But you always let me feel grounded, because you’d only rain,
In my part of the forest.
And you fell all over me, the same way I fell all for you.
And people feel this, all the time.
This dream of some magical presence.
And we make each other these promises, to always,
To never let go.
And it just stops, everything for a second. Where we feel like time,
Doesn’t even exist.
What place could I drown in, that would be more substantial,
Then the storm where we, were whisked away.
And I hate emotional poems, but no one would read the little signals.
No one could drive in the right place.
It’s funny. I used to see water in your eyes.
And I just want you to know.
That I’ve never ever wanted things to be like they were.
They were just….wrong promises, at wrong times.
I know, and I know you can’t hear me anymore.
Because it’s this dream, of some magical paradise.
I saw over every mountain when I climbed into that bed for one last night.

I was told to be less metaphorical, but hope is just…..
Such a metaphor.
I didn’t realize that you can drown, in a lake, or an ocean,
Or anywhere where you can’t feel your breath.

And you always made me breathless.

Now I’m left with a sunset. And a body.
A body of water.
Fluid, and lost without love to contain me.