I sit by the shore with sand in my hands,
thinking of him, then thinking of her.
His smile is kind, his words are sweet,
but never makes the water stir.

She walks in like a storm I want,
with eyes that pull like undertow.
I'd drown so gladly in her gaze
and come up breathless just to know.

Boys are boats - safe, expected and still.
But girls? They're waves that don't forgive.
And I have feared, with aching truth,
that this is how I will always live.

Loving the ocean more than the shore-and longing for what wrecks me more.