There exists an emptiness
between who you were
and who you wanted to be.
Trying to hold this gaze
across an abyss of liquid gray
is like looking into the eyes
of an old friend;
something so familiar,
twisted and bent before it is nothing
recognizable at all.
I know that anger,
that rough silence of the sand
between the toes.
I remember the desire to simply push out to sea,
leave the loneliness of the harbor
for the waves unpredictability.
You have always been so stupidly passionate.
I can tell you now
not to take the first, cool step
I can tell you not to let yourself be deceived
by the welcome weightless feeling
when you first begin to wade.
And I know,
nothing can save you from yourself.
The salt will burn,
it will bleach your lips into another color altogether.
Dirty fingers will drag you down.
Your hips will shift like tectonic plates in places so dark
you wont be able to tell
where up becomes down
and this floor becomes hell.
You will swallow too much of this life
to ever fully recover.
But know that you will not drown.
I promise this water is warmer
on the other side.
I promise that our horizon
will no longer be the gaping black mouth
that it appears to be.