i have always craved a love like that of the fog,
for love among people never suits those like me.
i am an ocean trapped within a set of bones
unwilling to let me free;
jailed, misunderstood by the simplicity
of average bodies and frames
and shallow minds and ideas.
i am the blue sea in a skin bursting at the seams
with thoughts and subtle grace
that only appears as chaos above
and darkness from the depths at which they swim.
an acquired taste, i am unlovable,
for i hold the weight of countless ships on my shoulders,
but also the weight of the drowned in my heart.
i am the most beautiful violence, the most deadly benevolence;
an eloquence of earthy tongue not many understand.
the fog is my beloved code that orders the confusion
and assures me, even for just a moment,
that i am lovable like the rest.
for the fog kisses my lips with gentleness that seems
idiosyncratic amongst my battlefield of
sunken ships and lonesome hidden remnants of better times.
it shelters me, engulfing me in soft caresses
and breezy whispers; tearing away my stormy facade
with the most ethereal efficiency.
however much i may toss and roar and kick,
the fog stays and there and listens, watches.
it does not dare to change me,
but it lingers in its soft, chilly presence
until I have calmed myself.
i am never sad when it does fade away,
trailing wispy fingers along me as it does.
for my love, the fog, never dares to go
until even the tiniest phantom of the storm has passed
and the sun is beaming down upon me again.
