sea men

Speaking with impassioned words, the art not foreign to me. I wield my lettery weapons, skill apparent in your response. You’re falling in love with me. How can I keep up the charade? My empty words fill your heart, full to bursting, filled with naught,

but your meanings attached to them. Can I truly be so deceptive?

My facade is melting. My words don’t come from an empty place. I find myself reaching out to you, making promises, murmuring comforts for my absence, creating a space where you and I exist together in my mind, always. All ways.

Possession, passion, predicament. No precedent. Are you the one? You’ve pushed me to question my own misgivings, to push outside of my own walls. I’m clamoring over them to get to you, to touch you, to feel you near, to be by your side. What have I done?

My empty words are in the past, my heart felt promises pave a future.

My present is a wave in the ocean, decided by the tide that day. Is this love? Fate? My heart is in a vulnerable place. For although I have tried, I feel my old self wasting away. You have caused a transformation in me, my tidal wave. So, what with all my love, don’t you have to stay?