Boy, you are my anchor.
You keep me from getting washed out into the raging sea we call life.
You keep me safely grounded to a place I can call home.
If home is where the heart is, then my heart is at the bottom of the ocean.
Close to you.
Linked to my anchor.
But boy, anchors partake in shipwrecks.
Sometimes you hold me under until I drown.
Weighted down by this heavy heart of mine that at times you refuse to bare with me.
At the bottom of the ocean I am naked, raw, suffocating.
But when I look up and see all of the crashing waves and angry currents above me as I sit
in these quiet depths,
I realize that you were always my savior.
Under the pressure of it all, at least I can feel.
The ocean knows all pain, welcoming my salty tears like glistening jewels to be buried as legends.
The story of us will travel with me forever as I sail the seven seas.
One thing I can't deny though boy,
is that even when the winds and the waves push and pull me,
like an anchor you never change.

You will always take my breath away.