This Mental torture is like a flame on thick ice,
just not enough to melt through my core
yet just enough to leave a mark.
But...
I can't tell myself -
what should this wandering mind do?
Because I keep telling myself,
what will this wandering mind do?
My arms reached around you
sweeping you up like a cave.
But...
My grasp was loose,
as was the howling winds that blew
the air from my sails, plummeting me,
into a nearby whirlpool of blanked out, blocked emotions.
As the course is set and our paths align,
no matter how much paddeling I did. Attempting to steer myself to the safety of the shores but missing it by my fingertips.
I was merely brought back into your arms
despite my previous attempts
to pull you in closer and losing
You to a wrong turn.
Then...
As the second wind hits our sails
we got lost at sea - never to see the shoreline again.
