You are not the only person i’ve loved looking at that light
Green, blinking over the water
in fact, i said goodbye to my first staring at it
i soared with my second in its glow
but each one, each one
faded, or crashed, either by my malicious hand, or my incompetent rudder
i have pulled so much from so little
i knew that light meant everything
now i have learned, it is just a light
in reality it exists only to demarcate the left side of the safe path
not to me, not to me, to me, like one before me, it was everything
a green light blinking in the Distance
every future i could hope for
each time filled with a different You
i’ve sat in the same spot on the same sandy shore and said the same things the same way
the only difference
You
god, i hope You are different
i hope i feel differently about You
but i do not, i can not know
i hope our ship will not sink like the rest
Illuminated by my kitschy and distracted heart
always looking for the next metaphor
Blinking, noiselessly but immutable
i am sorry
**** me and my poetry
i am sorry
in the fall there will be a fourth.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
You are not the only person i’ve loved looking at that light
Green, blinking over the water
in fact, i said goodbye to my first staring at it
i soared with my second in its glow
but each one, each one
faded, or crashed, either by my malicious hand, or my incompetent rudder
i have pulled so much from so little
i knew that light meant everything
now i have learned, it is just a light
in reality it exists only to demarcate the left side of the safe path
not to me, not to me, to me, like one before me, it was everything
a green light blinking in the Distance
every future i could hope for
each time filled with a different You
i’ve sat in the same spot on the same sandy shore and said the same things the same way
the only difference
You
god, i hope You are different
i hope i feel differently about You
but i do not, i can not know
i hope our ship will not sink like the rest
Illuminated by my kitschy and distracted heart
always looking for the next metaphor
Blinking, noiselessly but immutable
i am sorry
**** me and my poetry
i am sorry
in the fall there will be a fourth.