There is never a rhyme to how it happens.
Your body moves like a wave, only to freeze,
My naive desire sinks, deepening with the cracks in my skin.
You are the stillness of a lake.
I am the silent pier where knots are tied
to secure your vessel.
Climb atop, and step with confidence.
I will hold you -- for a time, anyways.
Leave me in disrepair,
my mercy howl to the sands of time.
Here, I will surely rot and slumber.
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 3:37 AM UTC
There is never a rhyme to how it happens.
Your body moves like a wave, only to freeze,
My naive desire sinks, deepening with the cracks in my skin.
You are the stillness of a lake.
I am the silent pier where knots are tied
to secure your vessel.
Climb atop, and step with confidence.
I will hold you -- for a time, anyways.
Leave me in disrepair,
my mercy howl to the sands of time.
Here, I will surely rot and slumber.
