4 White Stripes

Love and water.

Four white stripes led me to your lighthouse where I unaware failed to see the clouds that I had hoped to have had followed me instead of heavy torrent.

 

You were taking me for granted and every seagull flying overhead could have told me so so much sooner than my own senses could have predicted.

 

I blind, and attached to your hip made way for slow tidal waves near my soaky shoelaces, torn and worn; I fell forward but it did me no good.

 

Instead, my dirty sneakers attracted flows of crashes against the stones in my head and then I forgot how to swim.

 

My garments become drenched in pallid droplings of blue salty wine and make me thirsty for real sustenance.

 

I am on rocks edge bleeding double time for the pain of yesterday and the hardy reminders of tomorrow.

 

Why can't I be still and let the storms pull me into the nighttime ocean so grand in its washing ready to cleanse my hollow throat of air.

 

Perhaps, I do not want to drift away I would like to linger beneath the shoreline of your collar; it is safe and soiled but infallible in its post over my head.

 

This time try to shove me off, my dearling my intentions were to never let loose of the steer.

Author's Note

An ongoing theme for me in that I cannot let go, that easily.