Love is like a giant wave,
Sweeping over me.
And it happens perhaps
Sometimes when you hold my hand,
Sometimes when I can’t understand
What keeps you from saying
The right words,
If it only means that you care.
Sometimes I feel we’re leading ourselves nowhere,
And when I do,
A tiny wave,
Gives me an ache in my throat-
I gulp hard.
I shouldn’t turn everything into words,
But what else do I have to give?
A very expressive one keeps reeling under the phrases for you,
You can’t help it if I write down a poem:
My passive aggressive way of letting this tiny wave move past me,
My toes digging into the sand,
My ming trying to find a grasp on the land that shifts from beneath it.
If you can surf well,
You ride the rising wave and your exhilarated state knows all too well,
That this frothing foaming sheet lets you hitchhike.
We’re passengers, imagine so many of us dotted across the sea trying to tame our feelings.
Once in a while a giant wave will pin you down,
You don’t want to name this feeling.
It crushes you,
And in your attempts to reach out and get out of this strange unfamiliar territory,
You pull me down,
We sink together.
Perhaps you rise, but I drown nevertheless,
Under my weight.