I am just like her—
Trapped in a sea of white.
My mind is just as frayed—
My heart just as sliced.
By the glittering blades
That contrived all her words.
The letters of her thoughts,
Locked—in all her Mirth.
Her poetry—screams of Despair,
Lie there—lonely—on the shelf,
I can see the parallels
Between that tortured girl,
And myself.
We run back to your house,
The lights are still on,
And they cover your freckled face,
Like it's the sun.
The grass brushes our feet,
And the wind catches in your hair,
We sit out on the sand,
The fog covers the sky,
And blankets the world,
Like a shield.
The waves nip at our feet,
The water's cold
But I'm warm because you hold my hand,
We stand on the dock,
The sun has set,
But I can see your happiness
Even in the dead of night.
The streetlight's on,
The metal is all rusted
And covered in salt,
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