there is a story here.
i don't know if i can call it Love,
the two of us discovered Her a long time ago.
now, capsized boats
washed up on the shore
unsure what to do with all the baggage we still carry
from the heart we previously sought refuge in.
we walk close to the ocean
leaving footprints in the sand
and watching them disappear with every wave.
you reach out your hand for me
and i hold it,
desperate for something to anchor me to the Earth.
i can feel it moving beneath me,
and i’m not ready.
you press a kiss into the back of my palm.
a tear falls down your cheek.
we help one another patch the holes in our boats
with shared laughter and endless dreaming.
you let me sleep on your chest at night,
as we watch the sun fall behind the horizon.
i don’t know if i can call it Love,
but i’m starting to remember why we floated so far from the shore
in the first place.
i’m starting to remember what it means to feel comfortable in silence,
to listen to someone’s heartbeat
and be reminded that there is a life outside your own
that just wants to be held for a little while longer.
i press a kiss into your forehead
and let a laugh escape
as my eyes fill with tears.
you’re looking at me
with eyes so deep
a soul so loud.
there is a story here,
on this shipwreck island
of a boy and a girl
who aren't sure what to call this,
who have been hurt by Love before
and are afraid to drown again.
but still,
they float messages in old glass bottles across the sea
speak through tin can telephones
send paper airplanes over the distance between them
hoping that one day they will meet again
with something more to offer
than an unfinished story.