secret: these parts

I.

these
broken bits
of bitterness
that self control
can't
confine have
sold me short of
pretending that

I am
safe.


II.

doing what i've
wanted has left me
miserable

but
hell,
at least
someone
was entertained.

III.

the ocean is beautiful and sad and people love it for a couple of days before leaving it. they call it their home, they say their blood runs thick with it, they breathe the air and finally feel at peace with all their pieces.
they leave and choose every time to continue their old life, the one without surprises and abounding with uneasy comfort. secretly people long for the ocean, want to remember how happy they felt and be encompassed in wild wonder.

the ocean never changes. It watches as you sit and weep. It watches as you bring new lovers and pretend to have something worth while. As you stand and think and fall in love with crashes. It watches as you grow old and slowly fill with more frustration and anger for a life you can't be bothered to change.


but there's a secret that it can't tell you. something so deep and heartfelt and you can lie to yourself, but that never changed anything. it can't.

the ocean
doesn't care.
it can't.