work in progress
this is the smallest thought
that you could perceive
hanging on the edge of periphery
this is the motion you missed
so think quick
'cause if this
just doesn't fit we must acquit.
but all jokes aside
let's just finish this sigh-
gather our breath
and leave it bayside,
make for higher ground
leave our ghosts or ghouls
and the emptiness
we felt was profound
but it was wisdom
contrived, biting our tongues
wishing the coast to
kindle our fires.
but now the new moon's tide
just left us here
dripped saline
redundant tears.
but you're still
passing up
on passion
can you see where this ends-
an epilogue done in red
there is no you
so the ocean currents
bleed you into the blue.
and this is the smallest wish
that you could percieve
"let us be borne back into the sea"
and sink or swim at least we begin something anew
from the trite and the true.