Too many times
you've walked in and out,
contradictory to the
hook line of your persuasive essay
to win me over,
stating that you would
never
leave;
but you're no longer a constant,
no longer the gentle lull of the
waves against the coast
that send me into sleep at night-
rather,
you are the sporadic gusts of wind
pushing open my windows
and blowing in leaves and twigs
that mess everything up.

And you make it hard to say no.
You make it difficult to push
through the current and swim
back to shore,
because your pull on me is too strong
for my own good-
but I love the water,
and I keep going in for a swim
despite the inevitable fate of being
dragged down;
and I would normally swim in other oceans,
but there could be sharks below the surface,
and I don't even know if I could
get myself there.