the ode of saltwater wounds

She’s fluid, she moves with the current in a graceful way.

Her eyes are fluid too, glossed over with unshed tears from her earlier years.

Though she swims with such beauty, she has a bad sense of direction.

And I fear for her crazy self, always warning her- but water is stuck in her ears.


Will she ever make her way back onto dry land?

Why does she put up with what she does?

There’s a lot of unknown things in the ocean

That don’t take too kindly to you wiping away their dust.


Is she waiting for me to save her?

Do I even have a way?

Some people must make a push for themselves.

But I don’t want her drowning in her mistakes.


They call her sailfish around town, she’s that fish that can’t be caught.

Many men have bought expensive bait, but she tells them to get lost.

I sleep in the sand, waiting for her to realize that I’d swim any ocean for her.

But right when I do, someone comes along with a fancy new lure.


If the water was too warm for her, I’d be blowing on it for hours.

Right when she starts to smile, someone comes in with a fan.

It’s painful to watch someone get what you want so easily.

Even more painful to watch her get a man and walk onto land.


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