I feel pity for the ocean.
In order to be loved, she stays silent –
masking the tiniest whisper of her feelings,
slowly forgetting the fiery waves she is made of.

For no man dares approach her
when she is crashing her turbulent bones
on the rocks.
They will wait until she has calmed –
tranquilised,
ready to reflect their likeness on herself.

They can't handle her intensity,
leaving behind corpses of memories –
abandoned promises of eternity,
never to come true.

Of course, I understand the ocean.
She shares the same fate I do –
the woman's fate.
Creatures crucified for emodying
their soul.