"There's comfort at the bottom of a swimming pool,
I'm holding my breath for you."
....except i'm not.
You are the shallow end of my pool;
dangerous if i dive head-first.
You tried to warn me before I jumped
but you forgot to show me your signs
and I never asked.
I just assumed you had more depth.
It was like you were trying to get me to drown for you
so you could save me
but you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party,
you can't be the car crash
and the paramedics,
you can't be the flatline
and the CPR.

You are the reason the lakes at my summer camp
have signs that say "Look Before You Jump"
because there could be creatures down there
that you don't want to touch you
but you are the deep sea monster
that National Geographic didn't want to discover.
They cower in the corner of their bedrooms
when they dream of what you're capable of.
You can swim among the krill
but still scare away the whales that eat them.
You had the ability to hold up my sinking ship
but you could still slip through my fingers like tap water.

I ******* want to kiss you sometimes
and others I really do want concrete
between you and my skin
like the small bridge next to my house
almost as if you are the babbling lake
and I am the jogger at 6 am.
The sun isn't quite up yet
but you haven't stopped creating noise in my head
since the moment I crossed your path.
I remember the reflection of the sunrise in your body
and the beautiful shade of pink you turned
when I tried to take a picture of it.
I was a little too out of breath to stay much longer
but you were quick to remind me that you'd be here again tomorrow morning
but I think I slept in and missed you.

I don't hold my breath for you anymore
because I'm no longer drowning.
I am not submerged in the Sea of You;
the tangled tendrils of your seaweed have let my ankles go
and I am free to swim back to land.
And although I know I haven't been to the ocean in weeks,
sometimes I still find sand in my hair,
sometimes I still feel the waves crashing over my head.