She promised she would slam the door when she left
And I would know she had gone
But she quietly removed herself
With a plotting and precision
Only a hardened heart could exercise
And, God, I love her for it.
“Tramps like us…”
No needles. No binges. No knives.
Just the procedure of carrying on
Until I let the waves cover my head
And I go slowly under too tired to fight
Whoever wanted to be human anyway?
When there is so much more and less to be?
And who wants to row when you can swim until it doesn’t really matter anymore?
I want to be so angry.
Like I used to get, and storm out, and mean it
But all I can do is tread the water
Ride the waves
And fight like hell to exist in a world
Where the meaning I saw in her eyes
Never existed at all.
Was never guiding me or holding me or calling to me.
It is just me and this boat and a shore I don’t seek.
Undefined
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I like how you used the metaphor of treading water because treading can be difficult and exhausting but it keeps someone afloat.
Amazing poetic images,I loved quite a few but I loved the last one the most.