Nay, in tides.
The waves are always crashing
Back and forth, back
And forth.
And the oceans are always there,
The ground is always wet,
And I always crave his presence.
But at night the tides come rushing in,
Stronger; relentless.
An uncontrollable force that I just give in to.
I can taste the saltwater on my tongue
Burning, like acid.
It's almost as bitter as my regrets.
Ha, just kidding.
Seasalt isn't bitter.
It's salty.
See, waves are constant,
Just like his absense.
But the tide is unpredicatable.
Sometimes high, sometimes low,
Sometimes dangerous.
The only thing you can be sure of
Is that it comes up at night.
As if the moon unveils sorrows unseen
In the light of day.
YOU ARE READING
Notes
RandomA glimpse into my mind. These are notes from my phone, starting from 2013 to the present day. My poems, rants, late night thoughts, things I've seen and heard, words I wanted to remember. (Note: There is some content hinting at various mature or tri...
