I'm going to be heart broken again.
Because everything you ever said, was just the same but interpreted differently.
I feel lost.
I'm trapped in a small wooden boat, cast out to sea.
The sea is calm, but there is no land to be found.
I feel the time passing, with no explanation as to whether it's moving forward, backward, or if it's really just staying still.
I'm not sure if I'll ever reach the shore.
I'm not sure if I'll ever find the grips on the oars attached to the side of the boat.
My hands are too slippery, for I am nervous that you have stopped searching for me in this sea of desolence.
Eventually, I will wipe my hands off on my pants, grip the oars with determination, and paddle forward, praying that time is moving along with me.
And hopefully once I reach the shore,  I will be sure about my life, and sure about our entire situation.
And maybe,  your hand will be there at the dock waiting to pull me in.