The Pier


If you shall sail away tomorrow, dear
May I pass by the foaming white beach side
And lay my soul to rest beneath the pier

How can I live if I live in this fear?
Not enough times, i tried, you tried, we tried
And soon you’ll sail away tomorrow, dear

Is it worth living worlds away, from here?
Or worth living without your love, your bride?
If so, I’ll lay my soul below the pier

My heart like an anchor, it pulls you near
But distance binds me underneath the tide
How can you sail away today, my dear?

May I sink to the ocean floor, so clear
The waves stroking my feet with every stride
And soon burry my soul beneath the pier

My heart is soaked and salty as a tear
All of my bones have somehow pruned inside
And now you are sailing away, my dear
I lay my soul to sleep beneath the pier

Writing Utensils


You are the author of your own life.  You started writing in pencil, able to erase whatever you wanted. There were a couple of smudge marks left on the paper and the side of your hand. Sometimes you ripped the page when you tried to erase uncaringly. But as you got older, you wrote in pen. The ink still smeared, making it messy and unclear to read. There were stories you wish you could erase but you could only scribble them out. They aren’t legible anymore, but they are still there. They will always be there, indented in the page.

Imperfect Facade


Do you want to know what’s eating me alive?
It’s all these thoughts I bottle up inside.
My mind continues to recite this unspoken soliloquy.
It plays in my head, non-stop, repeatedly.
These are some of the lines:

“I may be everything you wanted but I could never be everything you needed. Defeated is all I’ll ever be in my abandoned memory. To you, I applaud your hypocrisy, for it was much more deceptive than I remember. But what right have I got to state that claim when I suffer from memory loss and numbing pain. You put on this facade so often, I can’t even remember who you used to be. To me, you were imperfectly pure. But I can’t find that in you anymore.”

You stabbed me so hard,
I nearly fell through the floor.
But you held your hand out to catch me,
you confused me once more.
How much longer
do we have to live like this?
That’s all I want to know.