Wait

you warned me: told me; sang given gifts galore

to an oblivious child luring moonbeams in the sand

 

Hey wait

Oh, yea, oh, well, oh, my, oh Just oh

There’s my breath again oh there we go. Hey you did tell me mine

I was not prepared; should have been because was told twice by design

 

Wasn’t listening

was lost in the lusty blood-dripping knifey part i guess

 

Still watching eyes shift up to the lying side when uttering that one half-truth; see that?

There is no such thing as balancing against the tide because it is always fluid; churning; swirling; roaring

Tide stands still at no point in time ever

    (Except once in the mountains; frozen solid split-second; which then of course called in all the rains; such storms!)

But besides then; no

So it’s not balance as much as a dance, yes? I balance the terror of being wrong for you with your wise inner sight; i balance the guilty pleasure of wanting to take that which i cannot use as was intended with your pure snowwhite lovesong; i balance the silence with my musings,

but i dance with the tide

she said when the tide goes out and one is left in the damp sand, alone, with only a dream, one might abandon the oceanside

 

We’re both pisces, me and her and another, but i can’t leave the ocean; not ever - not that smell of salt

only trade one for another, that is my only compromise i am unyielding in this

The half truth is not that i am not stalwart or steadfast as i dance with water; i am. It is that I am  terrified you are not.

Look again; see that?

If you kept searching, sailor on the road putting hearts in order, you would find such a life…

I have seen it

 

I knew a beautiful young adonis once, he was a baby and i ran a center of children and the bosses son

He threw around his baby weight even then

    When his half-brother flew

            to his death

                this young man woke up and never again, i have heard, did wrong to another

    Although his beauty might allow him, as yours would too, if you walked that path

 

I trust you completely

    Not a conclusion a scientist would make

        But there is some protection instinct that overcomes science

                        I smell it in you

                            Can’t explain

But i trust

Open

How can it be worse than this lonesome loneliness of not having you

-- not knowing if i will ever have you 

or if the nighttide has swallowed you whole

 

I walk near the ocean

    in moonlight lit by grandmother

        Stay always near the water

                Near the knowledge of one rhythm to soothe the ache for that other i know

 

I lied when i said i walk in sun

forgive me?