Untitled- a poem

Sombre waves, they never cease

I, adrift, senses at sea

Chest retracts, lets out slang like a breath

Whispers of to-do’s and of should-be’s

And then there is him,

Him, with his arms like anchorage

That no bad thought can cross,

Where I hear them faintly washing over another spacetime

And in his cerulean gaze I’m lulled to that place

Bewildered, my eyes freeze on his

Arms gripping, tightly encircle his back

In an attempt to forever preserve that frame

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