Nothing anyone said could convince me that the color of his eyes were not similar to that of the oceans depths. When most people picture the ocean they see bright blue, but I have seen rich, emerald green shores and also endless blacks of the sea floor. He had eyes the color of the abyssal level of the sea: the layers so deep that light could not reach it.
Light, can only reach so far, through years of life where a tough exterior had to be developed. Everyone told me to stay away from the boy with eyes as dark as his character. They told me that it was okay to judge this book because his cover screamed his ending; and it was not a happy one. But I was a ship lost at sea on a cloudy night and he was a lighthouse.
I fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves and unruly tides long before I could've imagined his sweet voice reminded me of rolling waves. Everyone around me could see I had it bad. My parents would remind me constantly of not venturing blindly into a shimmery danger past my knees in fear of riptides. But I thought I was invincible because I knew how to swim ignoring my weakness in treading.
I chocked on love long before I chocked on water. It was harder to swallow the fact that he never loved me than it was to inhale the burn of salty water. And everyone after the incident insisted that I was bizarre for I did not cry a single sound until after I was saved. And only because I had been separated from him. They said I was odd for I never told a single soul about the way the silver stones left me with black and blue bruises. When strangers pulled me from the warm, engulfing waves, I once called home, onto a cold and windy shore I felt out of my element. I missed the tranquility of angry waters. I became bitter and irritable the second I was away from him. I'd forgotten how to take in oxygen on my own; I'd been breathing rip tides for so long. At the time I didn't understand that the ocean could be relentless and unforgiving. I believed the way they were helping me was not help at all. I was so used to the abuse, I knew nothing else and that's why I bawled.
And what he did wasn't right. And I should've known better because even sailors don't trust the ocean.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetry"I know that sometimes for people, I feel like too much; But let me kiss away the phantom pain that the scars remind you of, Let me kiss the burns on your hands, From when you touched the burning fire within my soul. Let me show you that yes, I am...
