You stood there,
Floral button up and skinny jeans.
The essence of your presence
Corrupted mine.
A James Dean-esque lifestyle
Women at your shoulder.
'Ya couldn't hold her,' you thought,
Before shoving yourself down the deep end.
You continued to sink,
In the water of your faults.
Yet you continue to ignore the urge to breathe.
'It's calling me,' you tell yourself.
You felt your skin dampen,
Another thing drained in your sink.
Your Darcy-like attitude
Flocks them away.
Words like counter strikes,
Hide them in plain sight,
As your back hits the bottom
Of your overflowing lake.
A lukewarm feeling
Burns in your throat,
And a dry taste in your mouth,
As if you slept all night with it wide open.
Rather ironic, since
You're surrounded with nothing
But water.
In so deep, it seems
That you can't see the sun,
And the water
Has gotten cold.
The fish you see are people,
And the fish are everywhere.
And yet you've never felt so....
alone.
