swimming through wicked girlhood lagoon,
rushing to stars, constellations and the moon.
into evening’s hour, i see you,
a lone sailor singing the blues.
shallow eyes, nearly an empty tin can,
each subtle glance and wrinkly hands
are destined to a prophecy of sinful bliss,
your island, a boat, i would surely not miss.
solitude’s wind blew your ship even further,
i tried to scream, but i don’t think you heard her,
gulping the salty sea water, i went quiet,
while you sail to directions with no ends met.
when will you throw your anchor to stop?
your heart desires north, to be the first, to be the top.
your melodies soaked in bubbles of stress
will drown me into the void of tangled seaweeds mess.
truth be told, i only care about my own,
my self-proclaimed wonders hidden beneath my bones.
i am selfish, self-absorbed, a fish in a shell,
when i cross your barriers, you wouldn’t tell.
the hazy, thick mist with flickering stars at gloom
blind our eyes until a taciturn noon.
a crescent, present in your sight of the horizon.
a half is missing and i have my assumptions.
the dulcet tides carry me to the land of “what might have been.”
among the rough waves and the peaceful wild blue,
at least to fish out your mellow beam
and when i know, i’ll do it too.