We separated.
Drifting apart faster than the content held in every breath I took shouting bee sting sized words at your back,

like the pain would cause you to go into anaphylactic shock and you'd realize you were abandoning a boat we didn't even build on purpose.

You said we should drift off too sea and I agreed.
You said we see things differently and I departed those words from your mouth like they weren't the infection pealing away my conscious everyday we drifted.

I cursed at the tidal waves everyday until I realized our arguments were the reason they started.

And each day spawned a new question faster than the hairs that grew on my face.
And each response fastened a quicker end to our adventures.

You said to stop enjoying the water and enjoy me more often.
But you didn't stop to realize I was staring at you the whole time we were just lost in the ocean and our paranoia was getting the better of us.

And every time we kissed the emotion wouldn't stop slipping.
Because in between the cracks of our lips salt water seeped through the very foundation of this building we had left our hearts with.

It was a change of pace and scenery.
They say losing someone hurts.
But the pain comes from the build up.

I wasn't hurting when you steered the boat to land because you were done with the only fish that kept you sane in the sea.
Or because you needed to find more fish on land to appease your desire
Making me the selfish one of this whole thing.

The process that broke me was watching the waves break us apart and thinking we could survive each one.
But the water become too deep.
And knowing our hearts would only grow apart and never stop drifting.
Put an end to my suffering as the tsunami rained down on us and ended our romantic journey.

And since then we never stopped drifting.