Friday, March 13, 2015

i am my own ocean

the waves don’t wash away my footprints
no driftwood arrives on my shores
no moon pulls on my tides like puppet strings

I often still hear the engines roar in the distance
no amount of bonfires
could rival the orange city glow

but I will gladly sit in the sand
and count octopus limbs
and seahorse wings
until I reach

infinity and one

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