Past Tense

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

into destiny.

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.

 

 

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