PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I'd veil my apprehension for my comings and my goings,
I'd lay the potted soil for the seeds that we are sowing;
I'd sacrifice the time I'm given if it means it's spent with you,
joining with the current down on which, amidst, we're flowing.

But currents tend to falter when the stream comes to a fork,
drawing unto two fine lines on which we're carried towards
another shore of varied tethers that seek to hold us down,
dooming us to separation from us and from our course.

The waters turn to drifts of ice and glacial beasts and burdens
that lurk below the shallow tide in stillness and observance.
And while we drift on overhead their eyes may draw to see
the high disturbance on the surface on which their meals come free.

Throughout my passage out to sea you'll consume my conscious.
The bite of cold and hinge-less jaws will seem a distant pause,
but the blood that dyes my clarity will win all my attention
to the claws above the deep that pull me towards their maws.

In my lonesome buoyancy, these predatory poachers
may be welcomed passively as I seek out new exposure.
And when my corpse may wash on land and wait to be discovered,
I'd hope they'd bottle all my bones and sent them back to waters.

Then my chance of finding you may heighten with each piece
of my chewed and scarred remains that find their maiden sail.
And when and if my glass house vessels come upon your warmth,
I can only hope to touch your legs and not your mermaid's tail.