you hold my head under the water.
I'm drowning, but
I'm thinking about what you said to me yesterday.
there is a house by the seaside and it is sinking
the floors are rotting but the doors are open
and the seagulls perch on the roof.
I'm thinking about what you said to me yesterday.
could you love me? your hands are rough
and you're waiting for me to die, but I'm a ghost already.
there is a house by the seaside and it is sinking
but I don't know what that means.
the water is warm and it is not gentle
but it is beautiful.
I'm thinking about what you said to me yesterday.
yes. the answer is yes.
I could love you but you'll have to let go of my head;
there is a house by the seaside and it is sinking
and it can't be saved now.
but the sea is not so violent as to destroy a beautiful thing and
the house is not a home.
the seagulls are still singing their mourning song.
I'm still thinking about what you said to me yesterday.
you said, 'you are a beautiful, violent thing,
this will destroy me
and I love you like a seaside view -
one day you will swallow me.'
but you're the one holding my head underwater
and actually, you said, 'I love you.'
love me, then.
there is a house by the seaside and it is sinking.
you let me go and I take a breath that cuts me deep
and I turn to you and ask what you did that for.
there is a house by the seaside and it is sinking.
it doesn't mean anything.
the seagulls are singing their mourning song
I'm still breathing
and I'm still thinking about what you said to me yesterday.
love me, then.
