breaking up, breaking down
You are the ocean of my heart so blue,
The breakers on the beach your lips on mine.
A winter’s misty day or summer’s view
Would never show the ocean near as kind.
The breakers on the beach your lips on mine.
A winter’s misty day or summer’s view
Would never show the ocean near as kind.
ha ha,
no--
I don’t think this is working
what?
oh, us or the poem
no--
I don’t think this is working
what?
oh, us or the poem
I think I understand sometimes. Not you, not your hands or your love or your smile brittle edged in words wrapped in buts and contracts like plastic waste too shiny too slick. But sometimes, I think I understand the ocean. The ocean is no sonnet, but neither are you and neither am I, we are just fish, not even real fish jellyfish we float and sometimes we drown.
Love is not simple
But neither is the ocean
I can’t swim, can you?
But neither is the ocean
I can’t swim, can you?
sea turtles mistake plastic bags for jellyfish
so maybe I’m a sea turtle, or maybe I’m not
but in the dark of the ocean floor
your heart looked like something I could swallow
so maybe I’m a sea turtle, or maybe I’m not
but in the dark of the ocean floor
your heart looked like something I could swallow
Originally Published in New Reader Magazine