14 January 2011


The world, with you, is a rip-tide blue
and you blow me out of the water every time you move.
But while my brain thrashes from
wave length to wave length
my mind stays steady and swims on through.

I forgot, though, today, which path to take
to avoid sinking deeper but not let myself ache
when you forcefully splashed the salt in my face,
'cause the river was dry
with no water to waste.

But the taste in my mouth
from the words you spit out
reeked of unwanted nausea
yet an expected doubt
that sat sticky and gross
in the back of my throat
from the second we started
to the moment we choked.

I won't refill this river, 'cause our world is the sea
and this path we were on is now just debris.
So in the time we have left,
I want you to see
that though we're only good friends,
you're stuck with me.

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