New Ocean


It’s a hopeless fancy, to believe in the soothing current of another’s arms when none around you understand your need to drown into something beautiful


Yet the tickling whisper in your ears

Suggests that perhaps some remnant of the past may live on

And be found somewhere distant in the future

That dawn may rise to

A new set of arms

A new shadow of cheekbones

And the reassuring presence of a new pair of shoulders


For when the memories rush back to greet me

It is impossible to forget what that artificially surprised smirk, those curiously raised eyebrows mean

That all could be unveiled once again

With a new ocean beside me


March 26th



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