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I promised poetry,
But ocean imagery is over used,
A trope loved by few and written by those who can't appreciate chaotic nature of the sea,
yet the only way I can describe how you feel is the tide against the shore,
with your strong scared hands that leave me trembling until I'm filled with nothing but sea foam and desire,
And my words drifting ideas through your mind that changes the direction of your moral compass.
when the waves have calmed let me listen for hours,
Words about aged wood, tied knots, and exhaustion I'd never be able to believe,
Spoken with smile lines that haven't reached my face yet.
Let me trace every freckle,
As if they will form the constellation that will guide me home,
where I will recover from the taboo of our nature,
And eagerly await the next voyage.
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