like a child drawn to the sea

the waves of salty promise, 

the endless, haunted horizon,

like a child drawn to the sea— 

i am drawn to you. 

 

merely a shell of what you once were, 

a skeletal soul, skeletal heart,

you are simply empty to me. 

 

and yet i swim. 

 

through the currents of you, 

and us,

i swim. 

 

again and again and again. 

 

you are a mournful oasis of scattered soul, 

scattered heart, 

scattered love,

and yet. 

 

my haunted horizon, 

my graveyard of discarded love,

why do i always come back? 

 

it’s the way you croon my name, 

calling for me to stumble my way 

through the sand 

and into your arms—

home, at last. 

 

it’s the way you continue to convince 

me that a place to call home resides 

in you. 

your arms, your hands. 

 

even your shell. 

 

it’s the way your horizon never ends. 

the continual line, 

continuing currents and promises, 

and even the emptiness. 

 

you, blue and endless, 

are everything to someone 

whose vision is so wildly limited. 

 

if only the ocean were smaller. 

 

then maybe i could stop. 

maybe i could see. 

 

see how little you actually are. 

how little you should mean to me, 

 

how little your heart,

your horizon,

really is. 

 

but you’re big. 

to me, you are big. 

 

vastly empty, 

but so, so big.