sailor

I am weak, and I am tired.

The shore is just in sight, my body screams in agony with every little effort I make to reach solid ground. 

A voice in the back of my head tells me to stop struggling; to let myself be swallowed by the water, to let the salt sting my eyes and the sharks bite the skin off of my bones. 

My mind wanders off towards you as it often does, and for a moment i can pretend i don’t look at you with a tenderness i keep buried in the deepest parts of my soul; but before i can reassure myself that i’ve moved on a wave crashes over my head - a single touch, a look, a smile, a joke - pulling me under, and the fight for my life and breath starts all over again, land slipping away from sight once more.

If I were good at metaphors I'd say that a sailor will love the ocean his whole life even if its nature will never allow it to love him back, or something equally as pathetic. 

But as it is this swim towards you, for you, only leads to one end; and how could it not?