we are drifting through the tides...
but no one ever leaves
how they arrive...
I need to find a way back on that cloud
find that familiar bliss,
and then I'll just drift...
I might get a little road sick...
the years go by ******* quick...
& wistfulness can be a curse
of constantly feeling homesick
for places you've never drifted...
I want to drift through your sea
even as only a dream
& remorse is a trick...
apologies are a *****...
you're a scab I can't itch...
I could do it all again,
but I can't see the use...
when I don't want to be your lover---
I want to be your muse.