remember the poem i always said
i'd write about that light
house well here it goes
ten months later
and certainly not as romantic as id
hoped

ok ok so
i'm the lighthouse
(of course, you should've predicted that one)
oh oh and
you're the boat thats never coming home
(of course i should've predicted that one)
some days its sunny and if i squint
reeeeal hard -
hand over my brow and thumb on my temple

i can see the shore!

other days the fog is so
thick
so grey
so heavy
i cant see the hands reaching out to hold me

but frankly, i'm not sure they're even there anymore