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Feb 27
Like ships in the night
we pass - side by side - not breaking our stride,
not looking left, not gazing right,
barely glimpsing each other, like light-
houses, signals blinking brightly.

For the longest time we were alone
still are, no change tonight, we won't;
I've felt your presence long ago,
it was a silent gift.

How did we not recognize each other
after screaming for so many hours?
Listening to your soft criesΒ Β (your blue eyes),
Norwegian wood between us guards your lies -
you pretend to be rich and pretty;
I know you're just the janitor of the ferry.
The first mate, the captain, all remotely
far away and you're all that's left -
you are the second best.

Thankfully I'm not picky,
I don't care if you're not pretty,
I only need to see your hands and heart -
the rough patches are a part - of you, of me, of all the world,
and you're so out of reach, of sight,
and I know that it won't feel right; despite that
we shouldn't feel alone tonight.
And you have a wife-

and I know but I don't care.
You won't hesitate to stare,
and I can feel your bitter look upon my back,
the fingers that won't touch my neck
no matter how much I beg and plead for you to take me
and love me, unconditionally,
before I fall into the sea,
the water claiming me fully,
the waves brutally forcing me
under themselves, generously,
drowning in my bed.
Marco
Written by
Marco  22
(22)   
153
       Tyler Matthew and Marco
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