We built our home in the high tide sand.
Four crumbling walls where we mourn
the death of a love stillborn

Painfully aware of the waves.
Just a few fleeting months
to live out a lifetime of loving

And I can't ever find the words
or the literary comparisons
to convey how much you mean to me
the magnitude of your presence

You're not my Juliet
I'm not your Romeo
You are not Annabelle Lee
And I am no Poe

I never know what to say
Maybe I'm just sick of missing you
before you even leave
Maybe this isn't the kind of pain
we both so constantly crave

Maybe I'm Prufrock
Maybe you're a mermaid
Maybe we're both drowning
in a sea of terrible voices